Death Himself
by Satirrian
Summary: Voldemort always wanted to meet death. Now that he has, he's regretting it. Two worlds, safely separated from each other, collide in the form of one half-breed, Ichigo Kurosaki. Being alive and dead at the same time would have its own consequences. DISCONTINUED.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I will not profit off publishing this story. I am doing this ****only ****for my enjoyment, nothing more. **

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Chapter 1

* * *

Skyscrapers soared toward a distant sky, wisps of clouds marked the horizon, and gravity was turned on its side. The horizon was _up_, the side of a steel glass building was _down,_ the sky was _left_, and the ground was _right_.

Voldemort didn't like being confused.

He tried walking a few steps to the left and found that he could. The forces did not suddenly reassert themselves. In his mind, he had just walked up the wall of a building. The skyscraper was covered in dark glass windows, smooth underfoot, but otherwise unyielding.

He moved his leg to take another step when the air became _heavy_. It felt as if Hogwarts had uprooted itself and landed on every possible piece of his skin, crushing his bones, mincing his flesh into pulp. His back bowed under the sudden weight and he fell to his knees. He frantically held himself up with his arms as the very air rebelled against him.

Breathing was difficult, if not impossible. His heavy breaths resounded in the serene silence of this strange mind, completely alien. The silence then got _loud_, suddenly screaming at him, begging at him to break it, _to make it stop_. But he couldn't break the silence, no matter what he did. His voice would not come. His heavy breathing continued to the beat of his heart.

He couldn't lift his head to see more than the window in front of him. Then the window suddenly got blurry as his eyes went in and out of focus. When they returned, everything was the same.

The air suddenly _doubled_ in weight, and he slammed into the building, flat on his stomach. He watched as the window next to him rippled like the surface of a lake disturbed by a leaf. The rippling got more intense, almost becoming waves. The dark glass waves settled before hitting him, reforming into the building underneath, regardless of whether it was concrete or steel it needed to reform into.

Rising inexorably from the center of the disturbance was a humanoid figure. First, rising from the rippling glass, was a ghastly head with a bone-like mask and two vicious horns. Black as ink with two white stripes down each side, the eyeholes were dark but for the glint of malice held deep within. The figure continued to grow, like a figure resurfacing from the depths of an ocean. A white jacket hugging his lean torso extended to his ankles in the back, ending in the front at loose white fabric in a style completely unfamiliar to him, tied with a black cloth. The entire figure was white, as if bleached of all color, everything but the black mask. Long white hair streamed behind the figure in a wind that only it seemed to feel.

When the figure completely formed, the heavy air dissipated. The huge weight pinning Voldemort down was gone in an instant, and he stood up. He still couldn't breathe normally.

The creature, fully formed, _screeched_. The sound shattered the careful silence that was maintained before. The sudden sound was a _force. _It beat Voldemort in the chest, making him stumble back, consuming all thought but the need to cover his ears. The scream was like that of a beast, but bizarre in the echoing quality it contained. Like two creatures screeched at once, but one a second after the other.

The screech continued a few moments after the creature stopped making it. Once silence reigned again, it moved.

One second the bleached creature stood a few feet away, the next it was in Voldemort's face. His breath misted the black bone-mask of the creature. The creature lifted its hand, perfectly human except for the long pointed nails, and clamped it down over Voldemort's face, nails digging in.

Voldemort got a sick feeling in his stomach, something he wanted to get rid of. Unbidden, the thought arose; _I should not have looked at this person's mind. I should not be here._

He searched mentally for the life-line that will allow him to return to his body and break eye contact and found it-

"Looking for something?" said a male voice from behind. Voldemort, of course, couldn't turn. The creature still held his head. Disconcertingly, he found the creature start to lift him up with its one hand, the other casually hanging by its side. First the tips of his toes, then he was completely in the air, dangling for his life, his neck straining under the weight.

"Trespassers are unwelcome," continued the same male voice. "Our secrets are our own." Voldemort felt the tug on his life-line from where it was safely attached to the middle of his back. Once, twice, _snap_. A shock flooded his system, locking him up even more. He was suddenly cut free, a drifting strand.

"Well? Anything to say for yourself?" said the male voice. Voldemort was aware of the other end of the broken strand being held by that voice. _Why was the voice so damn calm?_ Voldemort felt squished, like he was stuck in a box far too small. He needed to _get out._

"Oh. What a shame."

Voldemort felt the voice start to let go of the other end of the line, and tried to find his own voice, but found it was still locked. Voldemort opened his mouth to say something when he felt it get filled with sand, running out between his teeth, coating his tongue. The sand ran down his throat and he started to breathe it, coating his lungs.

The bleached creature with the black mask cracked open its teeth and _laughed_. Almost a perfectly human laugh, it echoed on itself, building in a strange crescendo.

Then it squeezed.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	2. Chapter 2

**As you may notice, this story has been discontinued. You were forewarned. **

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Chapter 2

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The hollow observed almost giddily as he crushed the skull of his prey.

He had become aware of the Intruder as soon as the Intruder entered the hollow's mind. The hollow's mind was shared with a few others, but one of them rarely showed up. The other was unbelievably annoying, but the hollow had no choice but to deal. No one was leaving, so might as well get used to each other.

The hollow had never had an intruder before. This provided an unparalleled opportunity to rip the entrails around a human's spinal cord. Unfortunately, more things were going on than that. Mainly, _Ichigo_.

Ichigo hadn't been showin' up lately, mostly because he got sealed into his human body so he could stay in the World of the Living. Che. The hollow didn't understand the appeal. It sounded rather boring to him.

So, he was a little surprised to find Ichigo in his mindscape. He was even more surprised to find him sleepin'. In his _own mind_. That wasn't done.

The hollow walked over to the neatly lying figure, orange hair askew every which way. His arms were lying neatly by his sides, legs straight. The hollow prowled around him, suspicious of getting too close. It could've been some twisted prank. Though Ichigo wasn't one for pranks.

A foot away, the hollow smelled it. _Life_. Yuck. Disgusting stuff, that was. It clung to Ichigo, hovering over him like cobwebs.

The hollow felt the Intruder begin to move.

The hollow really didn't have time to deal with Ichigo, he needed to eviscerate something. He glanced around and, yes, there he was. The old man, at the edge of his vision, was watching the scene from the height of a pole. He nodded once, and then sank into the building, not waiting for a response.

The hollow found the Intruder right where he expected him to be. Obviously. It's his mind. The Intruder himself looked like a sickly human. He probably wouldn't be fun prey. Too easy.

The hollow noticed something off about the human. An almost imperceptible gossamer thread came from his back, twisting here and there. It absolutely _reeked_. The whole human did.

It had to be Life; what else could it be? Nothing else he knew reeked like that. The hollow would know; a whole section of his mind had the same scent.

To others, it's the Energy of the Body, which was probably a more correct term. The hollow liked to call it Life though, 'cause you had to be living to use it. Hollows didn't mess with Life users, and Life users didn't mess with hollows. It was simple. Hollows (and any other creature of the afterlife) can't see Life users. They're like living ghosts. And Life users obviously can't see hollows (and etc.), end of story.

It was just Ichigo's luck that he had to go and break that.

_Who knows? It might be fun, _the hollow thought while he caved in the skull of the hapless Life user.

The hollow dropped the frail body to the ground, displeased with how little of a fight the human put up. The body started to crack apart like paper mache, tiny flecks of skin breaking off and floating in any random direction, following its own wind. The tiny flecks soon turned black and burned from the outside edges, the flame making short work of it in moments. The entire body broke apart this way. His mind's way of disposing of foreign material, the hollow supposed.

The old man came over, wiping his hands on his dark cloak from having touched the Life user's thread. "I have attempted to remove the Energy holding Ichigo captive. I am unsure of its effectiveness."

"He's still out?" the hollow said in his strange voice.

"Unfortunately. Perhaps it takes time."

The hollow scowled, though the old man wouldn't be able to see that in this form. _Ichigo's such a weakling_, he thought. _To get caught by Life users._

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

_BEFORE_

* * *

Voldemort looked at the body of the prone God of Death, thinking that he expected Death to look quite different. He had underestimated redheads all those years. He thought on how different this day had become.

Earlier, he had been lounging around with a rare spot of free time.

Turning a page in his book (some ancient novella on the nature of Dark Arts, boring) he reflected on his goals. It all began with childhood, he decided. And as a child, he had always loved death. He still loved death. He loved it in the way his mother must have loved him, in the way his mother must have loved his father.

What did it mean to die? He didn't know. That's just it. _He didn't know._

How Voldemort longed to know.

He could send others into her sweet embrace, coddle them in fear and agony, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. He would never know until he went himself, something he would never let happen. What if, at the end of everything, there is nothing but the pain of nonexistence? What then?

Next to the love, there was fear, just as it should be. Until he met Death himself, he would never know.

Naturally, he would have to arrange a meeting with this Death person.

But there were more immediate concerns, one being returning wizards and witches to their proper place in the world.

The Wizarding World was a mess. Inefficient. Disorganized. Contemptible. Contaminated. The only way to fix it was to raze it to the ground and build it up anew. Judging by the almost complete lack of resistance, the wizarding world wanted this all along, even if they didn't know it. The Order of the Phoenix, the source of the last pocket of resistance, was reduced and scattered. It was only a matter of time before it all shattered like a cracked cup that couldn't take the stress.

That included Harry Potter. _He-Who-Is-My-Doom._ Ridiculous. How could a child who barely understood the magic he wielded defeat _him_? The most powerful wizard in ages? _It happened before,_ he thought. His mood plunged into darkness with the swiftness of a sinking ship. Did hard work mean nothing anymore? What about talent? He'd never thought to see the day when a talentless whelp would defeat a skilled and practiced master.

Footsteps approaching. It was Lucius, the owner of the estate he now resided in. Voldemort was taking a break by the fire, reading his book. His enemies would probably be dumbfounded by the mundane scene that presented, but Voldemort would be fast to contradict them. He never did anything mundane. But he had some downtime. Some plans have waiting periods.

Lucius stopped a few feet away, unwilling to interrupt Voldemort in his reading. Voldemort didn't look up. He was silent for a few moments, making Lucius sweat.

"What is it, Lucius?"

The man visibly relaxed, letting loose a silent sigh. "My lord, my humblest apologies for interrupting you, I would never dare to trouble you for anything underneath your notice-"

"You presume to know what is beneath my notice and what isn't?"

"Of course not, my lord. However, a man has broken through the wards without a wand, and, naturally, he was to be detained by Death Eaters, but, my lord," he licked his lips, glanced up once from his bowed head, then quickly averted his eyes, "we were unable to hit him with any spells." He continued on in a rush, fearing Voldemort's changing expression. "He managed to incapacitate a large number of our forces, and demands to see you immediately."

Voldemort snarled and whipped out his wand. Almost as an afterthought, he flicked his wand, ("_Crucio!_") at the offending servant, not stopping to watch the man writhe.

Voldemort approached the intruder as a storm wall, unstoppable destruction and natural force. It was quite an odd sight, if anyone cared to look. In the center of a ring of bodies was a nondescript man with brown hair mostly pulled back from his face except for a single stubborn piece. He wasn't impressively muscled, though he certainly was fit. Thick glasses were perched on his straight nose; his features were rather handsome in a charming way. He was dressed nicely in the muggle way, if not exactly formally. Thrown over his shoulder like a sack was another man, much younger, with light orange hair. He was wearing casual muggle clothing, a jacket and jeans.

Voldemort did not spare a glance at the fallen Death Eaters; they were failures. Instead, he was all eyes for the perpetrator. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The man just stood there until the spell was almost touching him, then he stepped aside. The man then looked to where Voldemort was, but not exactly at him. He looked just to one side, as if he was having trouble seeing Voldemort. Preposterous. How could he dodge his spell if the man could not see?

"I have a present for the Great Lord Voldemort. Bring him out."

Voldemort stepped forward and said, simply, "I am he. _Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!_"

The man did that same strange dodge, waiting until the last second and then moving from both spells with a twist. "If you are not the Great Lord Voldemort, I will assume you are a proxy and will carry this message on word for word."

The man dodged Voldemort's next killing curse with barely a pause.

"This child is a God of Death."

Voldemort did not send another curse. "What?"

"I understand that you wish to meet one. He is yours to do with as you wish."

"He is a _what?!_"

"I will leave him here. I do not expect anything in return."

He dropped the orange-haired man on the floor just like a sack, and Voldemort took a few steps forward, eyes greedily taking in the prone form of the God of Death.

Voldemort looked up to the man once again, hoping to take him captive, but he was gone. Just gone.

A God of Death. The possibilities were endless. "Lucius!"

The sniveling man came forward, shaking slightly, and bowed deeply. "Y-yes, my lord?"

"Take this man to the basement. Move the other prisoners to another secure location. I have work to do."

"...and the Death Eaters, my lord?"

Voldemort finally looked at them. The look reeked of contempt. "If any are still alive, you have my permission to heal them. I still have a purpose for them yet."

"My lord is so merciful-!"

"_Move._"

"Of course, my lord!" He immediately moved to comply, levitating the God of Death behind him as he left.

* * *

He was one step away from true immortality, and it came in the shape of a young man with orange hair and Eastern features. With complete control over a God of Death, death would hold no sway over Voldemort's life.

But first things first. After casting a few experimental spells, he learned that: 1. Magic works on a Death God, and 2. This God of Death was under a powerful sleeping enchantment. His unconsciousness was not physical, as Voldemort had suspected.

The being was set up so his arms were tied over his head from a rafter, his toes lightly touching the ground. His head was bowed in sleep. Sleeping people, especially magically induced sleeping people, were unusually powerless to stop Legilimency.

So, it stood to reason that, before Voldemort put him under the Imperius, he would find out everything the Death God knew.

Voldemort lifted the eyelids of the being, discovering brown orbs, and Looked.

He fell down a tunnel for an unnaturally long time in complete darkness, a consequence of entering the mind of a person in a deep sleep.

But instead of finding a whirlwind of memories and knowledge twisting around a central core held in a twisting revolution, as he was used to seeing, he found something radically different.

He found himself slamming into the side of a skyscraper.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy watched his lord enter the mind of the supposed "God of Death." Lucius was highly suspicious of the mysterious stranger's claim. He had never heard of the existence of "Death Gods," unless you counted the fairy tale renditions of "Death" found in childrens books. He was unwilling to think they existed just because some stranger found a random man on the street and said he was one. His lord seemed to ignore all this. Perhaps he knew of something Lucius did not? A likely possibility.

Either way, Lucius prepared himself for a new threat. If this redhead turned out to be a regular muggle, or even a wizard, no harm done. But the other stranger, now, he was a true threat. There was something completely and unnaturally _wrong_ with that man.

Lucius quickly dashed these thoughts as he saw his lord begin to thrash. The man twitched uncontrollably from his head to where he stood on his feet, spasms raking his back. Through this, his lord maintained eye contact. The thrashing got more violent, nearly causing his lord to fall, and Lucius remained where he was, near the entrance to the basement, quietly watching.

In an instant, the spasms stopped. His lord went still. Then his eyes closed, his hands dropping from where they held the redhead's eyes open, and he fell backwards to the ground like dead weight.

Lucius remained where he was, watching.

His lord laid on the floor, still as death. Just pale flesh. Lucius knew a dead body when he saw one. He glanced up to the redhead, and felt his jaw fall in astonishment. He was quick to shut his mouth again.

The redhead was shrouded in streams of black light. Like ribbons of dark cloth tainted by red lightning, they circled the redhead like slow plodding flies drawn to a carcass. The redhead's hair, already an undignified mess, started to float upward in defiance of the natural forces, his clothes rippling in an unseen wind.

Lucius shrank back as an unknown force saturated the air, making his body feel twice as heavy. His chest couldn't expand, his legs wouldn't move.

Then bright white beams pierced the oppressive air from every direction possible. They came in through the walls, from the ceiling, the floor, through Lucius himself, all with one target. The redhead.

The light was so intense Lucius couldn't see, but he looked anyway, seeing nothing but white light. Until a scar appeared, a claw of blackness tearing the whiteness, shattering it.

The white light rebounded from the redhead, blowing away like a hot wind. It scorched Lucius's cheeks, blowing his robes back, making his mouth feel dry.

Lucius couldn't see for a few moments, but when he could, he saw that the redhead looked absolutely normal, and his lord was beginning to wake up.

He hurried over knowing the fact that he would be punished for coming, and punished even _worse_ for not coming. "My lord?" Lucius said, hovering by his side.

His lord's eyes were open, and he slowly raised himself to a sitting position. Very quietly, almost soothingly, he whispered, "What am I doing here, Lucius?"

"My lord, you were interrogating a prisoner."

"What am I doing... _on the floor_?!" he thundered.

Lucius flinched back, almost without realizing. "It is not my place to question the actions of the Dark Lord." That seemed like a good response, Lucius thought.

The Dark Lord gathered himself and imperiously stood on his feet. He sneered once at the "God of Death," a markedly different reaction to the one he had before, and stormed out the room. He distantly called, "What happened to the other prisoners!"

"My lord, you asked them moved…"

"Move them back!" he said, walking up the stairs.

* * *

"Hurry! Move them back!" yelled Candryl Goshawk's superior.

"Ma'am! They're breaking the spells faster than I can cast them!" Candryl frantically replied.

"You're an Unspeakable working in the Hall of Prophecies! Do _not_ tell me you can't cast faster!"

Candryl wanted to tell her that she only started this job _today_ (because the last ten Unspeakables who held her position kept dying, she had rushed up the ranks), and that she could already cast spells in the fraction of the time it took a regular wizard to cast spells, so _stop hounding her, _but all she said was, "I'm trying!"

"_Try harder!_"

The Hall of Prophecies was a cold place, which was fine because Candryl much prefered cold places, but very dimly lit. Usually. Now the place was a bastion of light, as every single Prophecy in the entire forsaken building was lit up like a firework. Each orb was like a tiny sun spreading white light around it in a circle. Candryl had to cast a sun visoring spell in order to know what she was doing.

But really, she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Apparently, neither did her superior, Franceline Hue, who was only her superior by a matter of weeks.

"Is this supposed to be happening?!" Candryl yelled as she dodged a Prophecy sphere that came spinning at her head. She quickly snapped a spell that would fly it back in place to its shelf. Normally, prophecies were completely impervious to any attempts at moving them, and Unspeakables were forbidden to try. But "normal" said nothing about this situation.

"Not that I'm aware of!" Franceline yelled back from a few shelves down.

After the spheres had started to glow, one by one, they levitated off their shelves and started to zip around of their own accord. There were so many prophecies, and only two of them. They couldn't possibly avert this disaster without backup or some type of far reaching spell. Neither of which were likely to be coming anytime soon.

So, they tried. This might put a stop to Candryl's quick advancement in the ranks. She wasn't too put-out about the loss.

Any prophecies that Candryl or her superior missed would go crashing against the wall, shattering themselves. The white light would seep into the wall and slowly fade as if through a foggy window into the night. The broken glass would fall to the ground, but no prophecies were whispered. It was like the prophecy went with the white light, and now the glass was just glass.

Two prophecies charged Candryl at the same time, crossing right in front of her face and then zipping by her ears. _Oh no you don't! _She flashed her wand, immobilizing the prophecies, then summoning them back. Two. At the same time. She felt herself begin to sweat from exertion.

She felt like the prophecies were becoming faster, more frantic. If that made any sense. But now they were becoming slower. And they didn't need to crash into the wall for the light to go out! As she watched, five prophecies that she had managed to wrangle back into place had their light burst out like a comet. The comets flew through the room and hit the wall just like the others. In quick succession, every flying prophecy around her had the light wrung out, empty orbs falling limp to the ground.

Candryl was quick to fire a large-scale cushioning spell, saving the now-dark prophecies from breaking. A large-scale cushioning spell was not very large, comparatively, maybe enough to save three people. The prophecies she saved were minimal. The rest crashed to the ground and shattered.

This, apparently, was the last stage. The sound of breaking glass was prevalent throughout the room as every prophecy had the light sucked out of them, dropping dead to the ground. The last of the comets faded through the wall, and Candryl looked around at the sea of broken glass, lit by the dim blue light of the wall sconces.

"Goshawk!" Candryl heard faintly from a few shelves over.

"I'm here!" she responded.

"You're getting moved to the Thought Chamber!"

In other words: _You're fired._

_Great, _she thought sarcastically. _My first day and I already screwed it up._

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Bleh.**

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

_Great, _Ichigo thought sarcastically. _Two hours on the clock and I'm already kidnapped. _Make that two hours of avoiding going in to work, throw in a bunch of angry women, and there you have Ichigo's life.

But was it really his fault if he didn't want to catch a person's cat? The thing probably ran away for a good reason! Like what Ichigo was doing now, as he shoved a bunch of people out of the way.

He glanced back to see if he had lost her and ran into a wall. Ow. He stepped back, absentmindedly rubbing the side of his face, and contemplated the wall. Brick. Solid-looking. There was no way in hell he could have missed it. Could he have? He was sure there was an archway here before.

In his moment of confusion, she thought to catch him unawares. Hah! You do not have a father like Isshin without long-lasting trauma—er, reflexes. He turned on his heel, dodging her hold, and ran parallel to the wall. One step, two steps— he felt his leg get caught on something and he crashed to the ground. He rolled with it, trying to bounce back up, but she had him cornered. One trip was all it took for his boss, Ikumi Unagiya, to grab him in a hold by his hair and pull his head back. Then she started to drag him away. That lady was scary strong. Ichigo ceased resisting.

"You will never escape," she slowly enunciated. "I believe you have _work_ to do." Her voice promised a world of hurt.

She paused in her dragging of Ichigo at the stretch of wall he had run into. He kinda expected her to laugh. That's what scary bosses did, laugh at the pain of their employees. She just frowned at it and moved on. She was probably still mad at him for not showing up.

Eventually Ichigo promised he wouldn't run away and that he could walk on his own 'cause this _fucking hurts, _and that if she didn't let go he'd be bald before he was twenty. That finally got a quip out of her, saying that it was too bad he couldn't train his hair to be super-tough, then he wouldn't be in this mess. Ichigo responded kindly that he wouldn't _be_ in this mess if it weren't for _her_. Ikumi let loose a few choice words about the _predicament_ they were in, then got quiet.

"I'm giving you a two week leave of absence," Ikumi finally said.

Ichigo said nothing about the fact that he probably wouldn't have shown up anyway. He had studying to do. Yes, actual studying. Fortunately, Ichigo had managed to catch the last few days of his last year of high school. Unfortunately, he had basically missed everything in the middle. That made studying for college entrance exams… challenging. He still debated whether it was worth it at all.

As a shinigami, his life was basically set. He was the top of the top, the best of the best. Fighting hollows for a living, purifying souls, it sounded great. Until you get to the dead part. See, Ichigo was a living person. He had a living body with a… dead… soul. You know, it was way too complicated for him, thinking on it wasted brain energy.

Anyway, since Ichigo was alive he might as well live, which was the exact argument he had given Urahara when he told him that Ichigo's reiatsu levels were on a different plane than that of the World of the Living. Going there would rip a hole in the fabric of space-time, or something involving huge explosions and apocalypses. Of course, Urahara had used technogeek mumbojumbo and long words that sounded like obscure diseases until Ichigo smacked him and he spoke plain Japanese. Afterward he presented a solution, as Ichigo knew he would.

Urahara had put some strange kido binding on his body (they just looked like tattoos to Ichigo and he doubted anyone with more knowledge of kido would see anything different), and brought his body to Soul Society with the particle converter. Then Ichigo entered his body as usual, left through the particle converter, and was forbidden from ever leaving his body. If he ever did, well, _boom_, apocalypse. Urahara had seemed really nervous for some reason.

After that, smooth sailing. Ichigo couldn't really move that well, like his movements had been restricted (though he quickly adapted), but other than that, no other symptoms had shown. He could still see ghosts and hollows. He just couldn't do anything about it. Unless he used his Fullbring. Though when Ichigo brought that up, Urahara seemed nervous again… He didn't say no, so Ichigo figured it was fine. Probably. As in, the world _might not_ explode into a fiery ball of ruin. Ichigo had a complicated life.

Now his boss was giving him vacation time. The world _must_ be ending, there was no other explanation, and the end of the world had nothing to do with him! Actually it did, just not in the way he expected. He sighed.

"_You?!_ Giving _me_ vacation time?! I thought you were short staffed enough as it is!"

Ikumi refused to look at him. "I've got a few associates coming over, and I don't want them to see my _lazy _employees dicking around!"

The question was, should Ichigo be the jackass friend that teases her relentlessly or the understanding friend that respects her privacy? Who is he kidding, that wasn't even a question! "Oh? Does the mighty Ikumi have a _boyfriend_~?"

She punched him in the face, fist almost moving too fast to be seen. "You fucking twerp! Say that again and I'll bend your spine sideways!"

Ichigo now sported two wounds on each side of his face. That tended to happen any length of time he spent with Ikumi. He wasn't sure which side to rub and settled for the more recent wound.

"So that's a yes?"

Ikumi was… Ichigo double-checked, yes, it was happening… she was blushing. A sort of angry blush, but a blush nonetheless. "Just… stay out of it, okay?" She had deflated near the end, her quiet tone one of defeated anguish. Ichigo instantly felt his eyebrows knit together in worry.

"Is something wrong?"

"Of course not, brat! Mind your own damn business!"

And really, how else can you respond to that? Ichigo said okay and Ikumi elbowed him in the stomach. They quietly walked back to the shop and Ichigo got sent on a few odd jobs.

* * *

Ichigo knocked on the door to the Unagiya Shop at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. Nobody should have to wake up at eight in the morning, and he told this to Ikumi repeatedly, but she _insisted _on making him wake up anyway.

He paused for a few moments, but got no response. Instead of knocking again, he just went in, as usual. He yelled that he was there, taking off his shoes.

It was funny that, since he made this walk every day, Ichigo had almost gotten lost. Instead of turning right at the last block, he was going left. After a little while he realized that he had made a wrong turn, and quickly turned around. But he knew this route as well as he knew his own house. Must have been the sleep deprivation. Right.

Ichigo heard the sound of breaking glass coming from the kitchen. Ikumi must be cooking. But before he could stroll over, she rounded the bend with an iron frying pan that wouldn't feel nice smashed against his head.

Her eyes looked a little bloodshot. It definitely didn't help the sane impression a good shop owner was supposed to give off. "What are you _doing here?!_"

"Uh," was Ichigo's intelligent reply. "Working?"

"I thought I gave you two weeks off!"

"Actually, you gave me leave."

"So?!"

"I figured I'd finish the week off."

"I wanted to get rid of you for the next two weeks!"

"Does that mean the next two weeks starting today or starting at the end of this week?"

"I thought it was obvious!"

"That's your fault for not clarifying it!"

"How is _your stupidity_ my fault?!"

A new voice entered the fray (and it wasn't Kaoru or this argument would never have ended), "Ah, Unagiya-san, is this your employee?"

Ichigo could practically feel the tension in the air. And it tasted like sweat. This new lady was really old and small, with big glasses perched on her nose and long white hair, her face heavily wrinkled. She must've been at least twice Ikumi's age, if not more.

"Yes he is, Isayama-sensei. And he was _just leaving_." Ikumi started to push him towards the door and Ichigo let her. A teacher, then?

The little wrinkled lady stayed where she was in the entryway and watched. "A fascinating employee you have found, Unagiya-san, fascinating indeed."

Ichigo's sneakers were shoved into his hands and the door was shut in his face.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

Ichigo was worried. When Ichigo was worried, it tended to be for a damn good reason. So he followed his instincts, and put on his stalking hoodie. It was really just a jacket with a hood, but anything you wore when stalking someone tended to get that adjective. Ichigo liked being honest, so he kept no illusions about what he was doing. Hence, stalking.

After walking until Unagiya's was out of sight, he got out his cell phone and texted Chad. _Need backup. Ya comin?_

The response came after a few minutes. _Of course. whats wrong?_

_I think my bosses bein threatened._

_Meet up where?_

_Front of convenience store near Unagiyas._

_Leaving now._

Ichigo put his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and went to the store to wait for Chad.

After around ten minutes of waiting (Ichigo had gone inside to get a drink at some point), Chad came running around the corner, full pelt. Seeing a huge guy like that barrelling down the street like he was chased by a stampede of bulls kinda put people on edge. He stopped in front of Ichigo, panting, with his hands on his knees.

"Ichigo," he said, and was too tired to get anything else out.

"Geez, Chad! Did you run all the way here?!"

"Pretty much."

"Shit, man, that's like five miles!"

"Believe me… I know…"

After he caught his breath, Ichigo gave him the rundown on the situation. "Out of nowhere she gives me this two week vacation—"

"_Paid_ vacation?" Chad interrupted.

"—you know, I'm not sure. Damn, I shoulda asked that!"

"Focus."

"So, I figure she wants me to finish out the week, I mean, what kind of boss springs a vacation on you the day before? Right?"

Chad looked like he was about to disagree so Ichigo moved on.

"So I get there on time, and Ikumi looks like she hasn't slept in a year, and she's got this really old lady over who's her teacher or something. As soon as she sees me she practically throws me out the door!"

"None of that sounds overly suspicious, Ichigo. She could just want some time to herself. Maybe family is coming over."

"That's just it, Chad! This isn't a normal human being, this is _Ikumi Unagiya."_

"Ichigo, do you know any people that are actual human beings?"

"That's besides the point. Ikumi doesn't have any family, and friends of hers have come over before and she doesn't give a shit if I meet them. I think she's purposely making it so I don't meet any people who come over these two weeks. And why would this be?"

"Um, you're embarrassing to look at?"

Ichigo gave Chad a deadpan look. "These people are dangerous. Dangerous to me, and dangerous to her. It's the only explanation."

"You might be blowing this up larger than it actually is."

"I've got a gut feeling about this, Chad. Something bad is going to happen."

Chad looked at him for a second, then nodded. Friends like that you can't find anywhere else.

* * *

"Ichigo, is this hat really necessary?" asked Chad to the rustling of leaves.

"Rukia said it was," Ichigo responded.

"Then why aren't you wearing one?"

"I have a hood. It's practically the same thing."

Chad looked at his leaf-and-branch-covered cap, then at Ichigo's perfectly normal hood. "Somehow I don't think—"

"Shhh! Someone just appeared."

"Where? No one approached from the street."

"Backyard."

"Backyard? How'd they get in?" Chad was monitoring all the possible entry points.

"Don't know. It's like shunpo."

Chad redirected his binoculars towards the backyard. He saw a blurry figure in a black cloak standing in the middle. Moments after another appeared with a similar cloak and blue scarf. He grunted in surprise. "I didn't feel any reiatsu…"

They were quiet again, observing safely from a tree in the lot next to Unagiya's Shop.

Chad finally asked, "Are your binoculars fogged up? I can't see that well for some reason."

"I can see fine. Wanna switch?"

They switched and Ichigo reported that Chad's binoculars were working fine and Chad reported that Ichigo's had started fogging up. They looked at each other, both knowing nothing was wrong with Chad's vision or the binoculars.

"Maybe they've got a barrier up and you can see better because you've got more reiatsu."

"That can't be it, Chad. Urahara got me sealed up tight, I can barely use my reiatsu in this form."

"Maybe it works the other way, then. People with more reiatsu are affected."

They thought on this for a while, and no one else showed up besides the two in the yard, both of whom quickly retreated inside.

Ichigo finally got fed up and threw down his binoculars. He regretted this instantly as his binoculars fell down to the ground. "Gyah! This is useless! Let's just attack whoever shows up next!"

"But we don't know they're doing anything wrong."

"They're doing something suspicious!"

"There's a difference."

"Excuse me, guys, have either of you dropped this?" said a heavily accented voice from below.

Ichigo and Chad snapped their heads downward. Ichigo with hostility, Chad with confusion.

The man was a foreigner with brown hair and a blue scarf. He wore black robes that were not so much formless as they were old fashioned. "Please don't attack me. I'm not much for hand-to-hand."

Ichigo refused to show this man any sign that he was embarrassed. He hopped down the tree, a measly twelve foot drop (nothing compared to the drop from his second-story classroom), and snatched the binoculars from the man's hand. Chad remained in the tree.

"What're you doing here!" Ichigo demanded.

"Well, I'd like to say that I was invited, but—" Ichigo's face slowly darkened, "—I get the feeling that won't be the right response. So, instead, I'll give you a warning. Keep your distance these next two weeks."

Ichigo glanced up at Chad with a triumphant expression, then quickly reasserted a scowl. "And why should I? Ikumi's my friend. I worry for her."

"You need not worry for your friend. She is in our hands now."

"Who's this 'our'?"

The man smiled infuriatingly. Ichigo decided to call him Perpetrator #1. Or Jackass for short. "They are my friends. I won't ask you to trust in me, but I do ask you to trust in Unagiya-san."

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. Those words sparked a wave of dread in the pit of his stomach. It renewed the feeling he got when Ikumi gave him the vacation.

But there was nothing for it but to beat a hasty retreat. He and Chad hadn't found any evidence that this group was doing anything wrong. "C'mon, Chad, let's go."

Jackass did this quick double-take up at Chad, like he just noticed he was there. Ichigo guessed Chad was just quiet and easily missed, despite his size. Chad jumped down, and they walked out of a random guy's lawn, Jackass watching them the entire way.

Once they were on the street a good enough distance away, Chad finally asked, "Ichigo, who were you talking to?"

Ichigo stopped. "What do you mean?"

"You jumped down the tree and started to talk to the air."

Ichigo's breathe caught in his throat. _This wasn't supposed to be happening. _Ichigo wasn't the crazy kid who talked to himself anymore. He _wasn't_. That part of his life was _over now_. Everyone else could see them too! So, _why?_

"I was talking to that guy who materialized in the backyard. You really couldn't see him?"

"I didn't see or hear anything."

They walked back home in silence.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter will be a little different...**

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

The meeting began in silence, for such meetings were prone to begin this way.

Seth interrupted this silence by entering the room with an enormous smile on his face. "Fellow terrorists!" he exclaimed.

Of the three others in the room, one was a woman, another a little girl, and the last a boy teenager. On Seth's exclamation, the woman sighed self-sufferingly and looked out the window. The teenager face-palmed. The little girl didn't look up from her drawing.

"Aw, c'mon!" Seth whined. "Don't be this way! Let's get _excited _for what Seth has to say! Everyone after me," he lowered the tone of his voice, "Wow, Seth, what interesting news have you brought today? I am overjoyed with anticipation."

The little girl pelted a colored pencil at his forehead.

Seth showed no outward reaction to this action whatsoever, maintaining his oblivious smile. Even as a trickle of blood slipped over his nose.

"He won't shut up unless you acknowledge him, ya know," said the teenager.

"I am more than aware," said the woman. "Ever since I was assigned to this cell there hasn't been a moments _peace_."

"I will take that as an acknowledgement!" Seth happily proclaimed, then promptly sat on the ground with the little girl. The little girl looked up with suspicion and positioned herself so Seth couldn't steal her paper and pencils. Seth pretended not to notice.

"What the hell do you want, Seth?" said the teenager.

"I'm glad that you asked!" Seth replied while the woman sighed again. "While on my super-special mission with the Commander, I happen to have noticed a discrepancy in the wards, so then I went out to check what was up—"

"Are you sure you didn't see a shiny object and get distracted?" the teenager interjected.

"Well, in fact, that's _exactly_ what happened!"

The teenager began to beat his head against the wall.

"There was also a strange noise!" Seth tried to say in defense.

The woman sighed.

"Well, ridicule me all you want, but _I_ was the first one to locate an Afterlife Class A!"

The little girl dropped her colored pencils, the woman whipped her head around, and the teenager stopped looking moody.

"Ah-hah! Got your attention now, do I?"

"Stop trolling us, Seth, and get on with it," the teenager said excitedly. Well. Almost excitingly. The teenager didn't get excited about anything.

Seth had the look of a cat who was completely content after slaughtering his prey. "In the lot next to the super-secret location I went to, I found two people spying on us. Well, I could barely see the other guy, but the fact that I could see him at all meant he was living. Somehow. Therefore Class A. But this is the funny part, see, 'cause when I think back on it, the person I spoke to could see me _and_ the Class A. Did you get that? _He could see both of us."_

"So?" said the woman. "He was a muggle."

Seth mock grabbed his heart, as if wounded. "Lashna! Who do you think I am? I'd never go out in public without being slathered in Anti-Muggle charms! That's just basic survival!"

The woman, with the codename Lashna, sniffed and looked away again. "This person must have been some kind of wizard, then? At least a squib?"

Seth nodded and waited for them to realize it.

"Get out!" shouted the teenager. "That's fucking impossible!"

"Did you tell the Commander this?" stated Lashna at the same time.

"Ah, no, I didn't get the chance. He kinda refused to talk to me after I went off on my own…"

The woman stood up, causing the little girl to follow her. "We will go now. Where did he say he was staying?"

"He said he'd head back to the Guild Headquarters in London and report to the Chairman. 'The Wizarding World is becoming interesting,' he said. 'I smell an opportunity.' I think he was just constipated, but no one else seems to like my opinion on that subject…"

"This information changes everything! Imagine the progress! Our cause will jump forward by a hundred years!" The woman began to stride to the door. Lashna turned around in the doorway. She looked at the three others working in her cell. The little girl with the little braids in her blond hair. The moody teenager who wore black all the time. And the man with the scar from his jaw to his collarbone, hiding behind his blue scarf.

The stately woman with the dusky skin said the motto of their organization. "The Whitelanders will catch the rising moon."

"All for the salvation of the world," the three chorused back.

* * *

Sosuke Aizen had a plan for every eventuality. One of the first things he ever learned was how to make sure the right eventualities occurred. However, he did _not _expect his plan to fail in this particular way. He had countless back-up plans for countless different failing scenarios, but none of them had this particular result. This threw everything off.

In Muken, the eighth and lowest level of the prison located under the First Division, Aizen was having some trouble planning his future out. There were too many unknowns, too many to fool. Twenty thousand years was a lot of time to reflect on where you went wrong. Too long, he thought. He'd barely been there a year or two and he was already bored out of his mind. Yhwach spiced things up, but that was already fading. What does an immortal to do in his free time?

Escape, of course.

If only it was that easy. Aizen hated the competency of some parts of the Seireitei. The other parts were complete trash, but some parts were frustratingly thorough. Aizen tried to stop himself from thinking of all the ways to make the entire Seireitei as thorough as his prison, but failed. He was just too bored.

"Oi."

She was trying to speak to him again.

"Oi!"

Twenty thousand years wouldn't have been too bad if he wasn't stuck next to her.

"Hot-cakes! I know ya can hear me!"

"Oh, I am sorry, were you speaking? I was not aware maggots were capable of human speech."

She laughed. "So, Mr. Super-Genius, have ya thought of any way to escape this hell-hole?"

"Yes, I have, actually. All of them involve you devolving into a heaping pile of rotting flesh. You may begin any time now."

She was the type of being that would have been picking her nose right about now, if she had been able to move. Instead, she spat at the ground. Disgusting. Conversation after that shut down.

After Aizen calculated three-hundred and fifty-seven different ways to kill Ichigo Kurosaki and five-hundred and three reasons why he should not, she spoke again.

"How's this: If I escape and ya don', I'm takin' ya with me. If ya escape before me, ya can kill me. Deal?"

"No. I do not make deals."

"I don't get you." She said without her usual slurring accent.

"Nobody really does."

"What if I take ya wit'out askin'?"

"Good luck with that."

"I'll do it, ya know."

"I am aware of the fact that you meant that as a serious threat."

She laughed again.

Only nineteen thousand nine hundred and ninety eight years left. He could do it, he knew he could. But would it already be too late?

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!"

Aizen said nothing.

"What's yer name, hot-cakes?"

Aizen said nothing.

"That's a cool name, too, but I think I'll stick with hot-cakes. Fits ya better."

Aizen said nothing.

"What's ya favorite color?"

Aizen wanted to kill something. But, no. He was patient.

"Hah, trick question! The answer's actually green."

She continued to speak to herself and Aizen decided to sleep.

Then he heard, "Oi, spicy-pants," a new nickname she presumably thought up while he zoned out, "when I turn into a cat and take ya with me when I escape, I wanna introduce ya to a couple of peeps I know. They remind me o' ya."

_Turn into a cat?_ "What is your name."

"Chiasa Shihōin, at yer service!" She sounded smug.

Aizen had heard of her. He knew what she was down here for, but he did not know she turned into a cat. Useful information. "I am Sosuke Aizen, and will be happy to meet these friends of yours."

This time her laugh was positively feral.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

Chiasa threw open her arms, "Welcome, hot-cakes, to the Bunribuntai! Make sure to keep yer feet off the coffee table and you'll be fine." It was a joke, Aizen knew. There was no coffee table. In fact, there was precious little of anything.

This part of the Rukongai was exceedingly poor. The building the woman had led him to was a shack, better kept than most other buildings, but still a shack.

"Stop lookin' so damn condescending, I haven't even shown ya the good part!"

Aizen kept his reservations about any 'good part' to himself.

Chiasa walked across the dusty wood floor to a sliding closet, the only one with the door intact. Aizen briefly wondered why no one had started living in this place since the time Chiasa was free. "Blasted thing…" she struggled, "... only been three hundred years and ya've completely rusted over…" Aizen made no move to help, he doubted that the women would really have any trouble opening something if she really wanted to open it. He thought of the breakout…

"Ah-hah! Gotcha!" the door slid open with an ominous creak, revealing a metal picture frame, empty. The inside of the door and the surrounding walls were all metal, and, indeed, rust had taken over a great portion of it.

"And this will allow us to enter the World of the Living?"

"O' course! See, ya just push some buttons here, um, give it a good kick or two, and, viola! Instant teleportation device."

There were no buttons to push and the kicks Chiasa gave the metal made the frame rattle brokenly.

"Just step through it."

"Step… through it?"

"Stop bein' a wuss, hot-cakes, and step through the damn picture frame!" Before Aizen could think twice, Chiasa picked him up and held him over her head. Then she threw him head-first into the wall of the closet. Through the picture frame.

Instead of smashing into the metal wall (and probably the next five buildings) and getting a bruise, Aizen flipped midair and landed, midair, in what appeared to be an expensive condo. He looked behind him and saw an empty metal picture frame. The next second Chiasa phased through, as if she was in the World of the Living in the first place and had just phased through the wall from the other side.

Impossible.

When Aizen thought something was impossible in the presence of evidence to the contrary, that meant there was something someone else knew that he didn't. He disliked things that he was ignorant of.

"Huh. Place sure has changed," Chiasa remarked, standing next to him.

"The times have changed. I am surprised your organization is still running."

"Don' be. It's run by shinigami deserters. They've got nothin' left."

Silence but for the intensity of Aizen's gaze.

"You've got questions." It was a statement. "Let's meet up with the others, then we'll discuss this like one big happy family."

"I doubt anyone will be happy after this."

* * *

Takeshi Kanda was the division lieutenant of the Bunribuntai, and, technically, the current captain, since the official captain was in prison. That statement, in itself, should show you how messed up his life was. And he certainly wasn't happy about it.

Imagine how he felt when his captain broke herself and the worst criminal in Soul Society history out of prison. Then they show up at HQ and act like they own the place, completely ignoring the fact that he was basically the person keeping this organization together, demanding they see all the work he's done so far, then openly _criticizing it_ in front of his face.

The afterlife just sucks sometimes.

The transmission from the spy came while he was contemplating his sucky life. He put down his tea.

((Lion Gold to Pheasant Green: confirmed sighting of Doubleblack Diamond))

((Lion Gold to Pheasant Green: report, automatic Class ranking SSS, mission deemed Extremely Dangerous))

Takeshi responded. ((Received))

He did a quick translation under the copied transmission, and quickly got up. He needed to report this to the captain.

The Whitelanders had finally found what they were looking for.

* * *

Over the entire Seireitei, one message was broadcast. "IMMEDIATE LOCKDOWN. HIGH-PRIORITY CRIMINALS MISSING FROM CUSTODY. ALL GATES TO THE DANGAI ARE TO BE SHUTDOWN IMMEDIATELY. ALL CAPTAINS ARE TO BE ON STANDBY FOR IMMINENT ATTACK. ALL SQUADS ARE TO PREPARE FOR BATTLE. I REPEAT, IMMEDIATE LOCKDOWN…"

Rukia Kuchiki looked up from her desk and the piles of paperwork littering it. The sky was an azure blue today, with tiny puffy clouds high in the air. The temperature was a little too warm, but not enough for her shihakusho to become stifling, even considering the added weight of the white haori. But now there was no chance she'd finish her paperwork, no chance at all.

She thought one thing, and one thing only.

"Ichigo…"

* * *

The wizards moved in the night. But the night was not simply a time designation, it was living thing. It was darkness incarnate, like a flood of blackness in the pit of hell, it lived, it breathed, it was—

"You're thinking strange things again, aren't you, Seth?"

"I can think what I want! This the place?"

"You have the map."

"You know I can't navigate."

"I know."

"Then stop giving me the map!"

"I don't want to hold it. Besides, it looks like a three-year-old drew it. I think there's drool on the corner."

Seth nearly dropped the map right there. He examined the corner closely. "That's not drool that's—"

"We're here," said the commander. The commander was the one who was maintaining the silencing, cloaking and muggle-repelling spells over both of them. He said he wanted to save Seth's strength in case they met resistance. Seth secretly thought that the commander just liked doing everything by himself.

They had stopped in front of a very ordinary house that doubled as a clinic. Seth couldn't read Japanese (though he could speak it reasonably well) so he didn't know what the sign read. That was another reason why the map was useless to him, it was written entirely in Japanese. The commander was Japanese, so it was probably meant for him. But, _no_, he had _insisted_ he knew where he was going.

"Stop thinking sarcastic thoughts."

"Bite me."

"You should really stop giving me ideas."

A shadow detached itself from the doorway. "And _you _should really stop targeting teenage boys, Yori. People might think you have a fetish." The shadow formed itself into an ample breasted woman with black hair tied behind a cap.

"Ikumi Unagiya, so you've decided to join us after all," the commander continued.

_Was this what he meant by 'resistance'?_ Seth thought.

Unagiya snorted. "As if. I'm here because I heard some _idiot_ plan to kidnap my employee."

Isayama told her, then? That was out of character.

The commander's voice went hard. "You know why we are doing this. Why it must be done. This has little to do with the life of one child, and more with the lives of every human that will ever live. Do you still stop us?"

"Ichigo isn't the guy you're looking for, and I'm determined to back that up."

"Why do you refuse to see how special he is? He is the link between worlds, the bridge between life and death."

"And what evidence do you have of this?! The fact that he can see through the wards on my shop? He goes there every day! I'd be more shocked if he _couldn't_ find it! And what else? The word of that wackjob over there?" She mockingly pointed at Seth.

Seth felt vaguely insulted. He pointed at himself in disbelief.

The commander, bless his soul, came to Seth's defense. "No Whitelander would ever dare lie to me." Well. Kinda.

"You have nothing on Ichigo. I won't let you take him." Unagiya slid her wand out of her arm sheath and brandished in front of her.

"Seth. Do your job." The commander dropped the spells he had been holding, they had no effect on Ikumi anyway, and this was a cue for them to split. The commander ran forward at a dash and continued up the wall when he reached it, defying gravity. Unagiya dashed forward as well, aiming to tackle him, but Seth turned the ground under her feet to a mud pit. Unagiya snarled and cast a padding spell over the floor, before she could fall into it. She ran across the invisible padding, making it look like she hovered above the ground. Then she quickly cast an immobility charm at the fast receding form of the commander. The commander noticed the spell at the last minute and dropped flat to the building, instead of standing on it.

The spell missed his torso but snagged his leg, turning it into dead weight. Unagiya began running up the building, but Seth stopped her with a barrier ward, spearing the area between the commander and Unagiya. She hit his barrier with a force spell, but Seth was made of sterner stuff than that, and the barrier held. The commander frantically tried to revive his leg, but Unagiya actively resisted his efforts. She hit Seth's barrier with a double barrage of force spells, and it was all Seth could do to keep the shield running.

_Drop the barrier. _Seth heard the words in his head and he immediately complied. As soon as the barrier dropped the stun spell, which had already been cast, hit Unagiya before she registered the barrier had dropped. She hit the ground with a strangled, "Yori…" Then laid still.

The immobilization spell on the commander's leg instantly vanished. He continued to flit up the building until he was out of sight, entering a dark window.

Seth stayed on the street, watching.

The commander's ex-lover lay sprawled like a dead body.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

_Good news, Ichigo. You're about to be kidnapped._

Ichigo blearily stared at the note and rubbed his head at the same time. Someone had thrown the rock at his head, and that's how he woke up in the middle of the night. There was something familiar about the handwriting, but now was not the time. He staggered to his feet and threw on some clothes with the vague idea of beating the crap out of whomever thought it was a good idea to mess with his sleep. Be it kidnapper or prankster. He headed downstairs.

He got to the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang. Ichigo walked over, more than a tad wary. He opened the front door, not all the way, and glimpsed a figure outside in complete shadow. The figure made no attempts on immediate assassination, so Ichigo opened the door all the way.

The figure was actually two figures. One was a thin man with crew-cut short black hair and glasses. Another was a dark-skinned woman, like Yoruichi, but without the boobs. Her hair was grey, though she was young-looking.

Both wore police uniforms.

"Uh, how can I help you... officers?"

Crew-Cut flashed his badge. "You are Ichigo Kurosaki, correct?"

"...yes?" The police were on his _doorstep._ Ichigo frantically ran through all the people he had beaten up in the past six months and tried to figure out who had reported him. It was no use. They were all gang members. They didn't rat people out.

"You will have to come with us immediately," Crew-Cut continued. The woman just watched. It creeped him out.

Ichigo made no move to leave. "For what reason?" Without consciously thinking about it, he adjusted his body-language to hostile, feet wider apart, arms ready at his sides.

In reaction, Crew-Cut said, "It is nothing major. We have heard that you were witness to a case we are currently working on. It would benefit us to hear your statement." Ichigo still gave no inclination of movement. "It will only take a moment, then we promise not to bother you again."

What could Ichigo do? Say no? To the police? No way in hell. "Ah… sure," Ichigo really didn't want to take his eyes off the police officers, but if they were going to drag him around to the police department in the middle of the night, he wanted shoes. "Just give me a sec."

It happened when he turned his back.

His entire body felt like it was drenched in ice-water. One moment all he felt was his own muted reiatsu signature and nothing from the officers at the door. Then it washed over him like a flood, threatening to drown him. His own reiatsu rose to the challenge before he recognized it consciously. That man's reiatsu was ingrained into his soul.

Then he was passing out, blackness dancing at the edges of his vision. _No! It can't end this way!_ He grabbed the wall with one hand, forcing himself to turn around.

One face dominated his vision.

Smiling in a way that was almost amused, but not quite.

"Ichigo," the face said.

_No! He should be in prison!_

"You've become so weak."

All the breath was knocked out of him.

He crumpled to the ground.

Aizen.

* * *

"We have to move quickly."

"Where's the guy?"

"We've been had. He's already been moved."

"Who?!"

"Guess."

"How'd they find out?"

"They have access to resources both living and dead. We must move. Now."

Two men blinked out of existence.

* * *

"_What do you think you are doing?!"_ Chiasa spoke quietly, yet with force. Perfect pronunciation. Her lieutenant took a step back.

Aizen smirked, "Damage control," hefting Ichigo's limp body over his shoulder.

Chiasa inserted herself in the middle of the doorway. "I'm afraid I can't let you get away with that." Her small frame might as well have been a boulder.

She blinked, and Aizen was behind her. "You can try," he whispered in her ear. She snapped around, and he was gone. Her lieutenant was unconscious on the ground, bleeding from a wound to his temple.

Chiasa narrowed her eyes, grabbed Takeshi, her lieutenant, and Apparated.

* * *

Aizen paused in his flashstep in a very specific clearing for a very specific purpose. Rarely did he ever do anything else. The moon was almost full, bathing the clearing in silver light. In this light, everything was a shade of black or white.

They were there waiting, of course. Just as planned.

It was true; Aizen could not see them. However, it was easy enough to discern their location by saturating the area with reishi and looking at the blank spots. The gigai Aizen was in allowed the wizards to see him, but not the other way around. The Shihoin woman had said this was unusual. In this gigai, Aizen should be able to see and communicate with wizards. This was not the case, and puzzled Aizen to no end.

There were two, that was all Aizen could tell. He predicted it was the Japanese wizard and a peon.

Aizen dropped his charge on the ground; he landed without a sound. But Aizen could tell he would wake any moment now.

Perfect.

* * *

"We will wait here silently."

"But—!"

"_Silently_, Seth."

Seth burned with questions. Most prominent was the question of: _What are we doing here?Our target was escaping! Why are we waiting in this insignificant clearing in some insignificant woods_—

"Answers will come, Seth. For now, silence."

He appeared out of nowhere. Not like Apparition, just simply _there._ Seth finally understood why they were silent. That man was dangerous in a way he had never encountered before. He gulped.

The commander approached the man. Figures. That guy was fearless. "Why are you helping us?" he demanded.

"I see you have received my message. Consider this a cooperation gift." The strange man nudged an unconscious body with his foot.

"Why? Why do you do this?" the commander continued.

"I hope to continue being beneficial to each other." The man smirked, then disappeared. Seth hadn't blinked.

Seth had to ask. "Was that a… Soul Reaper?" His voice came out as a whisper.

"Congratulations, Seth. You have seen a sight few others will ever claim." The commander stood seemingly frozen in the middle of the white-washed clearing. After speaking he revitalized, sparking to action. "Let's tie him up, Headquarters is a long way away."

The commander and Seth walked up to the kid Seth had met once before. He looked exactly the same, the same punkish attitude. He scowled even when unconscious. That must have taken skill. Seth snored when he was unconscious. Or was that when he was sleeping?

"I'll put him to sleep, you bind him."

"Gotcha, boss."

"Don't call me boss."

"Gotcha, boss."

The commander glared at Seth as he cast the spell on the target. "_Sopornium."_

That's why he got elbowed in the face.

The commander reeled back, grabbing a broken nose.

Seth took a step back and cast a spell at the same time, "_Petrificus Totalus!"_

The kid dived out of the way, rolling on the ground. He was fast. Faster than he had any right to be. Seth moved to strike again, wordlessly; the commander was trying to keep back, healing his nose and stopping the blood that had completely soaked his front. The kid saw his wand flick and dashed in, aiming for close-range where the long-range spells couldn't hit him. Seth's spell went wild, and the kid punched him in the face, blood flying out his mouth. The kid was strong, as strong as a werewolf. Seth was completely stunned. After the punch the kid was already in motion, following up with a kick. _Wham!_ Seth flew ten feet backwards, finally grinding to a halt on the grass.

Seth just laid there a moment, letting the pain wash over him. _The commander! _he thought. He pushed himself to his feet, only to see his boss stun the kid where he stood. The kid was still. Until he started to lurch forward. The commander stunned him again. Then he was still, and he did not move again.

Seth staggered over. "I must look terrible," Seth muttered.

"I don't see any difference." The commander was just mean sometimes. "Let's be quick about this, he could break the spell any moment now."

Ichigo Kurosaki was spelled into a deep sleep and covered with magical bindings. He was carried by the taller wizard; the shorter wizard with the blue scarf nursed his broken ribs. They gathered around a Tokyo postcard, both touching a corner. Space turned into a vacuum and sucked them up.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	5. Chapter 5

**I will be using direct quotes from _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ by J.K. Rowling. **

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"Ya know they will kill him, in the end." The woman had watched the entire exchange.

After dropping off the kid, Aizen had let himself be caught a little distance off the clearing. Now they stood quietly together in the dark.

Ignoring Chiasa's statement, Aizen said, "A tracker."

Chiasa smirked. "We can't let potential recruits just roam around without any checks. That's just stupid." Her face became somber.

Aizen narrowed his eyes. "You could have easily taken out those wizards."

"Ah, but I didn't have to! Because _you're_ goin' to take them out for me." Behind the guise of playfulness was a snake, and slowly Chiasa was wrapping around her prey.

"What makes you say that?"

Instead of replying, Chiasa held out her arm, "Why don't we go somewhere more suited to plotting?"

"On the contrary, I find the middle of the woods at night one of the best places there is."

She smiled at his rebuff, and retracted her arm. "They'll kill 'em. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. Slowly and painfully."

"It makes no difference."

"It obviously does, based on your actions. If we had taken 'em, he'd be dead already. But you didn't want that to happen… I wonder why…" Her smile turned sharp.

Aizen remained impassive.

"Ya care 'bout this guy."

"Care? I would say not. Find him necessary? Perhaps."

Chiasa looked smug, like she had gotten what she came for. She thought she had out-played him. "Then ya've signed him a death warrant."

"His death warrant has been signed the moment he was born. The moment to act is still not upon us."

"Oh, _us_, huh? Decided to join?"

"I have never said no."

Chiasa twiddled with her hair coyly. It did not fit her image at all. "I don' know… Ya've already ruined one of my plans, hot-cakes…"

"That plan was doomed to failure the moment it was created."

She punched him in the shoulder, "Ah, how can I say no to that face! Yer in, buddy! But that means no more secrets."

"I would hope that deal goes both ways."

"We're a family, hot-cakes! And family doesn't keep secrets."

Aizen smiled with his mouth, not his eyes.

"Then we're off to Great Britain, land of the wizards and terrible food!"

* * *

The building was disguised as a warehouse for adirondack chairs and love-seats. And various other furniture, of course. In reality, it was the Whitelander Guild HQ, right on the outskirts of downtown London. The HQ was too large for it to be completely covered up, so it was disguised and smothered in notice-me-not charms. The theory was that not too many muggles would try hard to steal a good adirondack chair, so the HQ stayed relatively unobtrusive. The building was also rather close to a muggle police station, but that was just a bonus.

Inside the building was a complex that rivaled the Ministry of Magic. In fact, the blueprints for the building were modeled off the ministry's, but that was because magical architecture designs were far harder to produce than non-magical ones. In what would have been the office of the Minister of Magic, the Chairman sat brooding in his office.

A paper airplane flew through his office door, which was black oak, left ajar, and settled on his desk, magically undoing itself. The Chairman had barely read the first word when the Sector Seven Commander slid inside. He stood at parade rest, head lowered, fist over heart.

"Yori Natsumiya, at ease," the Chairman said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. The Japanese man did not sit. "So I take it the mission was successful?" The Chairman pointedly looked at the bruising covering half the commander's face.

"There were… complications… but overall success was achieved. The target is in holding."

"Wonderful… let's see… our interrogation unit will be free in…" the Chairman started to fruitlessly riffle through the piles of paperwork on his desk.

His assistant, Talia Newcomb, responded immediately. "They are ready now, Commander. Go see the captain with your mission statement and the Chairman will send over his orders. Chairman, I have told you countless times to organize this desk… you get nothing done…"

"Every time I organize this desk, it gets messed up again in five minutes…"

"That is because you do not label every account properly—"

"I swear, Talia, you'd have me label my pants!"

"If it would help you in any way, Chairman, I would label your pants."

"You're impossible…" The Chairman sighed.

The commander left before his presence would be a burden.

The commander did not get along well with the captain of the interrogation unit, but everything was sorted out easy enough. Minus a terrible itch in the middle of his back from a snidely cast spell. The commander would get her back later.

Arriving at the holding cell, the commander could tell something was wrong. It was quiet, the guards were passed out on the floor, the air smelt like ozone, the spells were undisturbed, and (the commander did a double-take) the guards were passed out on the floor. He rushed over to find them both dead, the cause being a very physical attack. Both necks were broken and their wands were not removed from their holsters. The commander dashed over to the cell holding Ichigo Kurosaki only to find a massive hole blown through the ceiling of the building. The holding cells were on one of the lower floors, that meant that the hole was blown through six floors, every single one reinforced by magic. How did this not set off the spells? Why had no one heard?

Where was Ichigo Kurosaki?

The commander rushed up the floors to find the offices where the giant hole had blown through. On each floor, the commander found at least one dead body, killed in exactly the same way as the guards. He started to curse to himself. Such needless deaths! It was true, the commander had not known any of the deceased, since he was normally stationed in Japan when he wasn't checking up at HQ, but he felt it anyway. He always did.

Near ground level, a sideways hole was blown in the wall to the street outside.

He gathered his wits and fetched his unit, a four-man cell with Seth as intermediary (they were all in HQ with their discovery of the Class SSS), in order to begin a search for their missing captive.

The commander had a feeling that he would not find Ichigo Kurosaki any time soon.

* * *

Aizen knew what he was doing.

He knew he was throwing a future pawn to a malignant magician.

But his new plan required Ichigo Kurosaki to double as a wizard.

So Aizen knew, better than anyone else, that the best way to teach something new to Ichigo Kurosaki was to try to kill him with it.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

"Harry—"

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol –"

"HARRY, NO!"

"—demort's after the Elder Wand!"

Silence. Darkness. Then—

"Come out of there with your hands up!" came a rasping voice. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

* * *

Ichigo woke up with the horrible feeling that he had passed out in a gas station bathroom stall after staying up all night drinking. Regardless of the fact that a situation like that had never happened to him, he was sure it was the only explanation of his pounding headache and sore _everything_. He blinked a few times, and decided not to bother. Then the situation slammed into him and he ripped his eyes open to the dim light of a lantern.

A girl around his age with a pale face had her guileless eyes leveled at him. She had dirty blonde hair down to her waist and a distinctly western bearing. She smelled like radishes and dirt. She opened her mouth and mumbled something in English. Probably? At least it sounded like English; Ichigo didn't speak English. This situation was getting worse and worse. He was about to say 'I'm sorry' when her voice started to make sense, like a fuzzy radio signal tuning itself in.

"—shoes?"

"What did you say?"

"I said: Have you lost your shoes?"

Ichigo looked down at his feet to find them bare, remembering that he hadn't had time to put them on when the police officers had come and— Aizen! Ichigo struggled to free himself from bonds he just realized he had, his arms tied above his head. His feet barely touched the ground. He paused after a moment. Dealing with information would come first.

"What language am I speaking?" Ichigo asked the strange girl.

"English." If she found the question odd, she didn't say so.

To Ichigo, it seemed like the girl had suddenly started speaking Japanese, not the other way around. He thought about this. As a shinigami, it was imperative that he/she be able to communicate with any soul he/she comes across. If he remembered correctly, Ichigo never had trouble communicating with foreign-looking souls in his shinigami form. Perhaps he had tapped into his power in his time of need? It brooked no more thinking; he could communicate as usual, that was all that mattered.

"I could give you mine, but I don't think they'll fit…" The girl was still thinking about those shoes.

"You don't have to give me your shoes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now. Do you think you could get me untied?"

"There was an old nail around here somewhere… Mr. Ollivander, do you have the nail?" She was addressing an old man curled up in the corner. She walked over to him and listened to something he said almost too quietly to be heard. She came back. "I shouldn't untie you… we're being watched, he said."

Ichigo looked around the dank cellar. No windows, just a heavy door, and the lantern in the middle of the room.

"Whenever they leave us a light they're watching us… it's a good thing you're awake now… I was worried it would never let you go…" Now that Ichigo looked closely, he realized that this girl was terrified. She was fiddling with one of her earrings, not looking directly at him.

"It?"

"... the dream varniern…"

Ichigo felt intensely worried. "Where did it go?"

"I think you killed it, I'm not sure. I suppose it's gone now. It was a close call."

"What happens if it comes back?"

"I heard they cannot stand the dreams of a three-toed sloth. Do you have a three-toed—"

"Of course not!"

"Maybe the varniern took your shoes. Hmm…" she looked thoughtful.

Ichigo had absolutely no idea what to think. Should he be looking out for some type of creature now? Where was Aizen? For that matter, where the hell was he?

Ichigo was unwilling to break the girl out of her thoughts, the old man in the corner looked too weak to breathe, so he had no other choice but to escape first, ask questions later. He was tied with plain rope, tightly. His hands were numb. Trying to pull his hands out would just rip off all the skin he had in his hands. There had to be another way.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said the girl. "There's no escape. Mr. Ollivander's been here the longest, he'd know."

"Mr. Ollivander isn't me."

She looked contemplative. "Wait until he takes the lantern away, then."

"Why should I?!" Then it would be dark and even harder to escape!

"It's his eyes," she pointed at her own protuberant eyes in explanation, leaning forward.

Ichigo lowered his voice and asked, "Who's this 'him'? Where exactly am I?"

She studied him. "We're at the Death Eater's base. In the cellar." At Ichigo's uncomprehending look, she continued, "Wiltshire, England."

Ichigo's eyes widened in shock. _Halfway around the world!? _"How long have I been here?"

"Time is hard to tell… A week, no… two weeks…? Mr. Ollivander, do you know what day it is?"

No response.

"You've been here a long time, but not very long."

Ichigo guessed that was the best answer he would get. "Ichigo Kurosaki, you?"

"Luna Lovegood. It's very nice to meet you, Ichigo."

And so they exchanged greetings in a prison.

The lantern was taken away by a very short man with grubby skin. He stole into the cellar like a rat, hunched over and cradling one his arms. By this time the ache in Ichigo's shoulders was near unbearable. When the short man noticed that Ichigo was awake, he nearly ran out of the room again. As Ichigo made no move to attack him (he couldn't even if he tried, or maybe he could, his legs were free, if the man would just come a little closer...), he eventually snatched the lamp and kicked 'Mr. Ollivander' on the way out.

Left in pitch blackness, Ichigo's stomach rumbled. He was forced to ask, "Do they ever feed you guys?"

"Oh, every so often. Now let me fetch the nail, Mr. Ollivander, would you please move over a bit? I think it was around here…" Vague shuffling sounds. She walked back over to him. "You're so tall; I don't think I can reach."

"Just hand me the nail, I can do it myself."

"You think so…?" She reached up on the tips of her toes, one hand on Ichigo's chest to steady herself, and fumblingly passed off the nail, cutting Ichigo in the process. She sank back to her feet with a sigh. Once Ichigo had obtained the nail, cutting his bonds turned out to be a great deal harder than they made it look in those spy movies. First off, he couldn't even reach the bindings. After fumbling some more, he found that if he stretched the rope out a little, he could get the nail in place to saw at the rope. The downside was that he had very little force behind the nail. So even if he could get the nail in place, it wouldn't do any good. Maybe he should just rip the bindings off, regardless of injury?

Loud noises could be heard from upstairs; people were talking. Ichigo continued to struggle with the bonds. He thought he had cut through half the rope, though nothing was assured in the darkness.

A distant yell came from the ceiling. Something along the lines of: "Potter?!" in a woman's voice.

"... about to call him!" A man this time.

"Your authority!" the woman screeched, "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your arms off me!"

"... nothing to do with you…"

"Gold!" the woman yelled. Amused. "Take your gold…" Mumbling. Then, loudest of all, "STOP! Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

A loud bang came from the floor above. Ah-hah! Ichigo had it! Now if he applied pressure… He pulled on the rope with all his strength and it came free with a snap. Ichigo crashed to the ground, too sore to keep his footing.

"Ichigo? Are you alright?" asked Luna.

"Fine, fine," he grumbled, dragging himself to his feet using the wall.

The screaming of "Stupefy!" or some other nonsense came from the upper floor. Then the people grew too quiet to be heard distinctly, resolving into background noise.

"Luna," Ichigo asked, "did I hear right, or was that woman yelling 'stupid-fry' over and over?"

Her response got interrupted by more screeching from the woman upstairs. "Be quiet! This situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!"

"... you don't give orders in my—" Another woman.

"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we're in!" shrieked the first woman.

A pause, then a younger male voice. "No! You can have me! Keep me!" There was a certain desperation and fear in his tone that chilled Ichigo to the bone. Then came the sound of a group of people clunking down the stairs. Ichigo dragged his sore body into a ready position with the vague plan of attacking whoever opened the door.

_Click._ The lock opened, and a group of people were thrown into the darkness, silhouetted by the outside light. Ichigo dashed forward, but it was already too late.

The cellar door closed with a final bang, and that's when the screaming started.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Same disclaimer as last chapter, I will be using direct quotes.**

* * *

Chapter 6

* * *

It was the scream of a young woman, awful and ululating. Ichigo quite honestly never wanted to hear it ever again. One of the newcomers started to bellow right away, "HERMIONE!" Ichigo could hear him struggle against some type of bonds. "HERMIONE!" he yelled again. Ichigo guessed that was the name of the young woman.

"Be quiet!" another person said from the same direction as the other. Were they tied together? "Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way—"

Heedless of the other guy, the first (Ron?) continued to bellow, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" like yelling would get him somewhere.

"We need a plan, stop yelling— we need to get these ropes off—" the other continued.

"Harry? Ron?" said Luna. She knew them? "Is that you?" The loud one quieted, and Luna continued. "Harry? Ron?"

"Luna?" said the one who kept his head together (Harry?). Apparently, they did know each other.

"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!" If Ichigo could see, he would probably her look of fear heighten.

"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" asked Harry(?).

"I think so… There was an old nail we had… Ichigo, do you still have it?"

"Yeah, I've got it. Here, let me cut you guys out," he said, finally being addressed.

"Who're you?" Harry(?) questioned, a tad hostile. Ichigo matched his hostility ten to one.

"Ichigo Kurosaki, current prisoner and escape artist hopeful," he said peevishly, reaching for the pair.

The young woman made another scream, causing Ron(?) to start bellowing once more, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" covering up whatever the screeching woman said.

"What, you guys tied together?" Ichigo grumbled, trying to find the ropes in the darkness. The question was rhetorical and neither of the two answered. Ichigo began cutting at the ropes, finding them very similar to the ones that had tied him before.

The woman's voice came from upstairs again, "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"

Hermione(?) begged, "We found it— we found it— PLEASE!" She screamed, Ron(?) spasmed, and Ichigo stabbed one of them with the nail, he wasn't sure which.

Blood started to get all over the ropes, making it even harder to cut, and Ichigo snarled, "Stop moving or I'll cut both your hands off and be done with this! I barely know what I'm doing here—"

Ron(?) said something vaguely intelligible, "Check my pocket for the Deluminator! It's full of light!" Ichigo had absolutely no fucking clue what a Deluminator was supposed to be and the fact that it was 'full of light' seemed like a really strange way to say flashlight. Translating issues?

Ichigo dutifully fumbled around for Ron's pocket. Which was extraordinarily awkward. He would much rather have sawed both their hands off in the attempt to free them, than to try to find another man's pocket in the dark. He did, however, find a metallic box-like shape that could've been a lighter, and that was good enough for Ichigo. He clicked it, expecting a tiny flame.

He was not expecting five glowing stars to burst out of the lighter and hang in midair like some kind of kido. Instantly, the cellar was lit up. Of the two men Ichigo was cutting free, one had reddish-orange hair much like his own but darker, and the other looked like he was suffering from a severe allergic reaction, his face puffed up and red. Two other prisoners were with them, a kid who was bruised bloody and some type of half-man creature that Ichigo really didn't want to think about.

The one with the puffed up face was staring at Ichigo, and Ichigo scowled in response. He resumed cutting the bonds, saying nothing.

"Hello, Dean!" Luna said, speaking to the prisoner next to the creature, her voice oddly cheerful.

The woman was still screeching, "You're lying, filthy mudblood, and I know it! You've been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!" Hermione screamed, Ron screamed, and the woman continued. "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

The rope snapped. "There," Ichigo said, stepping back.

Ron immediately started prowling around, looking for an exit. Dean thanked Luna and stood shivering. The half-man thing was near unconscious. Ichigo was unsure if the welts on its face were natural or put there. He stopped himself from staring.

Now Ron was twisting around in place for no apparent reason. "There's no way out, Ron," Luna said, confirming the fact that the redhead was indeed Ron.

She would've said more but Ichigo interrupted. "Oh, blah, blah, there's no escape, blah. Of course there's an escape!" Ichigo refused to admit there was no escape unless he'd tried to escape first and failed. One hundred times. Hermione screamed, cutting through his confidence, and spurring Harry into the same useless pacing as Ron.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! _CRUCIO!_"

Ron was crying, and Harry was fiddling with something on his neck, complete desperation coming from every feature. Ichigo padded over to the thick door and started kicking it, heavily. One after another. _Thump. Thump. Thump. _Ichigo figured the door would breakdown eventually if he just put enough pressure on it.

Harry started to call out in help, though he knew no one would come save them. Ron continued to call out for the girl.

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

_Thump_, went the door. Goblin? Was that the weird half-man thing?

"We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault… It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" the girl choked out between tears.

"A copy?" screeched the woman. "Oh, a likely story!"

"But we can find out easily!" came the man's voice from earlier. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"

Harry ran across the cellar to where the weird creature-thing was crouched in a pile. He whispered something at it that was drowned out in the smashing of Ichigo's foot against the door. It really sucked that he didn't have shoes.

He heard someone trembling down the cellar steps. A moment later, a young man's shaking voice tumbled from behind the door. "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"

In response, Ichigo hit the door particularly hard, rattling the hinges.

The person was silent for a moment, during which Ichigo was snatched back by Harry. "Just do what he says for now and let him take the goblin; we've got a plan."

Ichigo looked at him dubiously, but allowed himself to be pulled to the wall. He had to allow the kid to open the door anyway, so he could attack him. Ron clicked the lighter and the kido-lights got sucked back in. Ichigo shook his head, he really had no idea what to think.

The kid, blond and pale-faced, marched inside the room, parading some kind of stick in front of him. His eyes seemed to flicker between them all but lingered on Ichigo. He took the 'goblin' by the arm and led it out, taking a route that gave the widest amount of distance between Ichigo and himself. No one else seemed to notice.

As soon as the blond kid's back was turned, Ichigo tensed, preparing to leap on his back and strangle him, if need be. They were torturing a girl up there! Escaping was obviously a priority, and Ichigo had no qualms about knocking out any of his captors. Then a person next to Ichigo lurched in front of him, completely blocking his access to the kid. The blond kid flinched, hard, and nearly ran out of the room, not looking back.

Ichigo shoved the person blocking him out of the way and rushed the doorway, hoping to snag the kid by his clothes and drag him back inside. The kid looked back to shut the door and his eyes widened, his face paling, as Ichigo dived through the doorway, landing in a neat roll. The door slammed shut.

The bottom of the stairwell was very quiet as Ichigo shoved his hand over the pale kid's mouth, preventing him from screaming.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

Ichigo spoke in a whisper, each word with quiet intensity, "You will walk back up there and hand them the goblin. You will not mention me. You will not look at me. You will give no sign you know of my existence. You will do as told, or," Ichigo clamped his other hand on the pale kid's throat, "there will be consequences." The kid looked petrified, which surprised Ichigo. He did not expect his threat to be that effective. Ichigo released him, ready for the kid to scream or something that would give him away, but he did as told and limply staggered away. After locking the cellar door with his stick. Ichigo mentally cursed to himself.

From the other side of the door came a loud yell by Ron, something like, "Dooo—!"

Ichigo couldn't hear the rest of it because Harry yelled, "HERMIONE!" at the same time. Ichigo didn't think much of it and counted to one hundred before attempting to sneak up the stairs. His head peaked into a very shadowy hallway, which was great for him. The first floorboard creaked, making it not so great. Ichigo wished he could walk in the air above the floor, but he wasn't in his soul form and as a Fullbringer—

He had Bringer. Could he apply it to the surrounding air, allowing him to float? Or, better yet, dare he try it in this dire situation? If he failed, well. If he failed, he didn't know what would happen. The girl being tortured would probably die. She would die anyway if Ichigo didn't try it. That settled it.

The girl screamed, and it was far worse the closer Ichigo got. Rawer, more pain-filled. When using a technique Ichigo hadn't really mastered before, it was best to move fast and let his instincts take control. Bringer was a speed technique, so Ichigo would use it to get to the doorway down the hall as fast as possible, just using the air instead of the floorboards. Easy. He took a deep breathe, silently, and mastered his expression into one of determination. Then he jumped into the air, and, instead of coming down, his foot pushed off the air with a burst of blue light (hopefully no one noticed) and he flashed down the hallway in a blur, coming to a stop at the doorway. His entire trip made nary a sound.

Ichigo dared a peek into the room. He saw a very gaunt woman all in black standing over a girl lying at her feet. The goblin was given a broadsword, ornately decorated and well sharpened. A man with long silver blond hair spoke loudly, "What was that? Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Ichigo pulled back, his heart beating too fast. Did they hear him?

The man looked to the blond kid from before, they looked very similar, "Draco—no, call Wormtail!" he said, looking away. "Make him go and check!"

This loud proclamation was enough of a call for Wormtail, who appeared momentarily. It was the same man who had taken the lantern away a while ago! Everyone in the room gave each other glares that said, "Silence!" while the man Wormtail moved to the door and towards Ichigo.

What should he do? Ichigo couldn't let this man go down to the cellar and find out that Ichigo was missing. Everyone inside the cellar would be implicated! But if Ichigo took him out now, everyone inside the room would know about it! If Ichigo decided to take out Wormtail, then he also had to take out everyone in the room at the same time. He had no idea what abilities these people had, if they were just regular humans or something more. Ichigo didn't even know why he was there!

Wormtail was coming, the question was: let him pass or take him out? _Ah, fuck it, _Ichigo thought, and quickly dived to the other side of the doorway, hiding behind one of those tables that serve no purpose other than to collect clutter. It was sparse shelter, but should serve his purpose.

Wormtail didn't really look up when he walked down the hallway, staring at his feet. When he reached the stairwell, Ichigo stood up and used Bringer to flash behind him. At the door, the man called furtively, "Stand back. Stand away from the door. I'm coming in." He tapped his stick-thing on the door and the lock clicked open. Was the stick some kind of lock-picking device?

Wormtail turned the doorknob and swung the door open at the same time Ichigo launched himself from the top of the stairs. His goal was to land on Wormtail with his feet, knocking him out before he could make any sounds. This didn't really happen; as two figures dove out of the kido-lit cellar and tackled Wormtail, Ichigo ended up smashing into Wormtail's back, making the rat-man fly forward, the two figures with him. Ichigo regained his balance and ran over to the struggling figures, seeing Wormtail strangling who Ichigo presumed was Harry (the swelling had gone down some) with a silver hand, Ron sprawled on the ground.

"What is it, Wormtail?" called the man with the silver blond hair from upstairs.

Ichigo grabbed Wormtail by the shoulders and tried to pry him off Harry, Ron seemed dazed but quickly coming to his senses. Unfortunately, the silver hand would not let go, no matter how much Ichigo pulled. Ron began punching Wormtail in the stomach, a good idea, and the man called again, sharper now, "Wormtail!"

Harry choked out some words that Ichigo didn't pay any attention to, trying to figure the best way to get Wormtail into a hold without ripping Harry's throat out. Then Wormtail's death-grip on Harry broke. It wasn't much, little more than a slight lessening, but it was enough. Ichigo worked fast, throwing the man to the ground, knee to the middle of his back, arms pinned.

"H-his mouth!" Harry choked out, frantic.

Ichigo didn't understand what he meant until Harry came over and clamped a hand over Wormtail's mouth, ensuring his silence.

"Wormtail, if you do not respond to me—!"

"It's nothing!" Ron called in a wheezy voice. "Everything's fine!" This seemed to placate the man, for he said nothing more.

Ron walked over to the entrance of cellar, picking up Wormtail's fallen stick. Wormtail had dropped it when Ichigo crashed into him.

Suddenly, one of Wormtail's arms struggled out of the hold using an almost supernatural power. A normal human cannot break Ichigo's hold, and that wasn't arrogance. The silver hand reached up toward Wormtail's own neck and clamped on, choking himself. Harry dropped the hand covering Wormtail's mouth and tried to drag the silver hand away. Ichigo was frozen in shock, one of Wormtail's arms still held in the lock.

"No!" Ron came over and helped Harry, and, still, Ichigo couldn't move. Ron pointed his newly attained stick at the silver hand, said a nonsense word, and nothing happened. Ichigo wasn't sure if something was supposed to happen and didn't, or the desired effect was that nothing happen.

When Ichigo felt Wormtail's body go limp, the sharp scent of piss in the air, he dropped the hold, removed his knee from the middle of Wormtail's back, and stood a distance away, face cold.

Ron and Harry had one of those best friend looks, where all you had to do was look at each other and you'd have an entire conversation in the blink of an eye. They simultaneously ran up the stairs, Ichigo only a second behind them.

Both of them started to sneak along the passageway making a racket (to Ichigo's ears). Ichigo was absolutely positive that the people in the room were aware of the fact that more than one pair of footsteps was coming down the hallway, and that Harry and Ron better prepare for battle, immediately. But Ichigo couldn't really tell them this, or risk being even more exposed. Ichigo had a brief thought about the other people trapped in the cellar. He didn't remember seeing them…

Harry and Ron were at the doorway, Ichigo stood a ways back, unable to see what was going on inside.

"Well?" came the woman in black's voice. "Is it the true sword?"

The goblin's response (Ichigo assumed it the was the goblin) was slow in coming. "No. It is a fake."

"Are you sure? Quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Good," the woman said, relief palpable in her voice. There was a strange yell and a thwack. Ichigo itched to know what was going on, but only so many people could peek around the side of a doorway.

"And now," the woman continued, strangely happy, "we call the Dark Lord!"

_What the hell was a Dark Lord? _Was it the title of a person with control over shadows?

Harry seemed to have frozen in place, but Ichigo felt instant outrage as the woman said, "And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her." Ichigo didn't understand a lot of what was going on, but he did understand that Hermione was probably about to get raped.

Ron got this as well, and he burst into the room yelling, "NOOOOOOO!" Not exactly the best of sneak attacks, but Ichigo was more than willing to follow him into the room, distantly registering Harry following along in the rear. The woman turned her stick-thing towards Ron, Ron used his stolen stick-thing and nonsense words (Ichigo was beginning to theorize it was the name of an attack move or something) and her stick-thing got knocked out of her hands and flew towards Ichigo. Ichigo caught the thing and thought he couldn't stab someone with it very well so he tossed it to Harry, not looking back to see if he caught it.

He must've, as a red stream of light shot out with the words, "Stupid-fry!" hitting the man with the silver blond hair, knocking him senseless into the fireplace. Definitely an attack move, this 'stupid-fry.'

More light shot out of the enemies stick-things, and Ichigo, taking the hint from the stupid-fry, dove to the floor, rolling over to the still form of the girl. This, of course, meant rolling straight into the woman in black. Not one to lose an opportunity, Ichigo attempted to trip the woman, but the woman was having none of that and she skittered backwards. In one glance, Ichigo saw she had a knife, and the man with the vicious-looking face had his stick-thing pointed at Ichigo and—

It took all of Ichigo's concentration to use Bringer to get out of the way, blurring next to the goblin in a blue flash. In the place where Ichigo had been was a dark smudge of blasted wood. The vicious-looking man was frozen in shock for a moment, and Ichigo used this to it's full potential, barely noticing the goblin's resistance in relinquishing the sword. The sword was heavier than Ichigo expected, which was helpful, since he was better practiced in heavier swords. The sword was still too light and too short, but it would work in a pinch.

Ichigo assessed the vicious-man as the biggest threat, the woman being second, and sprinted forward, sword held low to the ground until right in front of the man, then he slashed upward and across. Ichigo did not account for the man's speed as he leaned backward, turning a killing blow into a deep gash. Ichigo over-compensated for the sword light-weightedness, using too much force, causing Ichigo to overbalance with the follow-through. The man used this momentary lapse to rip Ichigo in the shoulder with his nails, foregoing the stick altogether. Ichigo grunted in pain and immediately tried to disengage, but the man's nails had sunken in with a supernatural strength, and his eyes— his _eyes_— weren't human.

In was in this horrible position that the woman stabbed him in the back with the knife. Ichigo felt the blade sink in, like he had so many other times in his life. The woman ripped it out and stabbed him again, _laughing _all the while, the laugh of the insane. Another thing Ichigo had heard too many times in his life. The knife was left in his back.

The woman stepped away, and Ichigo held his stomach with the one arm he could still move, the sword still clasped in his other hand, the man the only thing preventing him from collapsing to the ground. Ichigo heard a large grinding crash from behind him from the general direction of the woman. Shattered glass, metal, and an insane scream.

"Stupid-fry!" The man froze up and went limp, falling to the ground, Ichigo falling with him.

Everything was beginning to fade out, he thought he felt someone grabbing his hand, the one still holding the sword, but he wasn't sure…

Ichigo felt like he was floating in darkness…

The smell of the sea…

Nothing.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Death Himself**

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

Renji Abarai began his day by storming out of the First Division barracks in the middle of the mandatory Captains meeting. They just refused to listen! He strode with purpose to the nearest senkaimon (which happened to the be the largest and most widely used in all of Soul Society) and promised himself that he _would not leave_ until the gate was opened! He would have to be cut into tiny pieces before he would move from _that spot!_

"Renji," Rukia pleaded, slightly exasperated. "Renji! Wait a second!" She drew level with Renji's fast walk, and glared at him. Renji kept his head steadfastly forward, ignoring her. They walked in silence for a time, waiting for the tension to build up.

"You _fool_!" Rukia finally hissed. "Don't you know we all feel the same way!"

"Then why aren't you _acting_!" Renji broke, immediately halting his stride and turning to face Rukia full-on. Rukia stopped as well, hands on her hips. "We have to go to the World of the Living and find Ichigo— It's the only chance we have!"

"I _know_ that! But as soon as we open the senkaimon—"

"Aizen can get to the World of the Living— yeah, I know. I've heard that argument a thousand times already and I still think you're all underestimating him! He broke out of _Muken, _for kami's sake! He's probably in Hawaii right now drinking pina coladas on the beach!"

"So do we just _let him_ escape?!" Rukia threw out her arms emphatically. "We don't know for sure where he is! We don't know anything!"

"_Exactly!_ We've dealt with Aizen before, Rukia, we know him. That guy's been in the World of the Living from the moment he escaped and he's probably already gotten rid of Ichigo!"

Their argument immediately ground to a halt like a boulder that smashed into the bottom of a mountain. Neither of them were angry, Renji knew. They were just worried. Renji hated to admit how helpless Ichigo was in the World of the Living. He wanted to drag the idiot back to the Soul Society by the tips of his stupid orange hair. At least here he could defend himself. In the living world… Ichigo was just another human.

"Hey, you two."

Renji snapped to attention, Rukia following suit a moment after. "Captain Commander!"

"Ah, I'll never get used to that," Kyoraku sighed. "Rukia-san, Renji-san, you both seem to be rather opinionated on the decision I made regarding the senkaimon…"

"Sir, I meant no disrespect," Renji said. "But in my experience dealing with Aizen, it's best to consider him ten steps ahead of us. We're just playing catch-up, sir, and unless we make fast decisive action, we'll be doomed."

"We'd all like to do something, Renji-san, but the fact of the matter is that Aizen is not the only person we have to deal with here. There was another break-out, one we tried to keep quiet…"

"Sir, do you mean to say that the lockdown was not meant to keep Aizen inside Soul Society?" Rukia questioned.

Renji glanced at Rukia and then back to the Captain Commander, very confused. "What are you talking about?" Renji demanded.

"Of the two people who broke out of Muken," Kyoraku explained. "One was a woman who delved into something she shouldn't've. She was obsessed with a very special breed of human, you see. These humans exhibited qualities that were… bizarre." Kyoraku seemed reluctant to go on, but figured he must. "When these people died, they did not go to Soul Society. In fact, their souls did not even form a plus. These people are nonexistent." He let that sink in.

Renji seemed to have trouble grappling with this new information about a woman obsessed with people who didn't exist… definitely explained why she was locked up in prison…

"How do we know this special breed of human exists if you say they are nonexistent?" Rukia asked practically, though she seemed confused by her own question.

"Let me rephrase, these people are nonexistent to _shinigami_. To regular humans they appear just as normal."

"Then _how_?" Rukia asked, mystified.

"To put it simply, these humans harbor a certain energy that is the antithesis of reishi. I believe the humans call it magic."

Renji scoffed, "Magic?"

Kyoraku shrugged.

"Wait, wait, wait! How did this insane woman study these people if she couldn't see them?" Renji was having a lot of trouble grasping this subject.

"You see, this is where the _touchy_ bit comes in," Kyoraku gestured. "And it involves something the humans call the 'French Revolution.' In short, it involves the slaughtering of countless humans, shinigami double overtime shifts, and lots and lots of human experimentation."

"And in the end?" Rukia whispered, horrified, but needing to know the answer.

"In the end," Kyoraku's gaze bored into Renji, "we got a lot of shinigami-human hybrids." The last words went unsaid.

Just like Ichigo.

Rukia brought them back to the present. "But what does this have to do with shutting all the gates to the Dangai?"

"A weeding, of a sort. Weeding out all the traitors. Before the woman was imprisoned she had a very extensive network, and hopefully most of my First Division had taken them out by now, _because,_" the Captain Commander began walking toward the senkaimon once more. "I'm sending you both on a mission to the World of the Living."

Renji felt a grin steal across his face, and he glanced down at Rukia to find a similar one. "Sir, it would be my pleasure."

"Sir!"

"Good, good." Kyoraku waved languidly. "I don't know if two captains will be enough, but we can't spare any more for this particular mission." They stopped in front of the huge gates of the senkaimon. A hell butterfly flew over and perched on the Captain Commander's finger. He slouched a little bit, idly examining the butterfly in the sunlight. "Your mission: Find Ichigo Kurosaki. Bring him back to the Seireitei. Active immediately."

Renji and Rukia shared a look that conveyed a lifetime.

_You ready_, it said.

The answer was always the same. _You bet I am!_

They leapt onto the path between worlds, led by a black butterfly.

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**

* * *

In the darkness, a persistent voice irritated Ichigo. Like a constant nagging at the back of his mind. He couldn't exactly hear what the voice said, and he didn't intend to change that. The damn voice was trying to interrupt his very important sleep! Content with his decision, Ichigo let the voice fade into the background, only for it to snap back to full-force once more.

He focused on the sound, and ended up in his inner world.

"—YOU AIRHEADED MOTHER FUCKER IF YOU DON'T GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW I'M TAKING OVER YOUR BODY AND— Ichigo. You're here."

Ichigo glared at his zanpakuto, crossing his arms. He slowly raised an eyebrow, giving off the vibe of 'Really? You're gonna do _what_ now?' The hollow shrugged it off with a smile. "How long were you calling me?" Ichigo asked.

"Since _forever_, you orange-haired _asshole! _If ya weren't already unconscious, I'd've—"

Ichigo cut him off before he started ranting. "I'm unconscious?!"

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout it. The _real _problem's _that!" _The hollow said, pointing at something behind Ichigo. Ichigo turned and saw something he never expected to see in his lifetime.

Situated at the base of their skyscraper like a bunker against a storm was a compact gothic castle, stones so dark as to blend into the distant ground. Ichigo would have missed it except for the very obvious and huge turret that extended up (sideways, of course) out of the castle, coming to a stop barely a few feet away from the skyscraper they were standing on now. The turret was dark like the rest of the castle, but on closer examination the stone was dark grey, not black. Gargoyles and other crenellations decorated the balcony that topped the turret. A stained glass window showed a man with a funny pointed hat and staff. The door to the balcony was open, and pale white curtains drifted aimlessly in an unfelt wind.

Seeing the medieval addition to Ichigo's mind, Ichigo could tell that the skyscrapers surrounding the turret seemed a little too imposing, a little too tall. It was like the modern city that was Ichigo's mindscape rejected anything that did not fit in, and wanted to crush the castle into submission. The castle itself looked like it was struggling, fighting to stay up and center.

"What," Ichigo said, deadpan, "the fuck is that."

"... you tell me…" the hollow muttered.

"Has it always been there?" Ichigo asked, not moving his gaze from the bizarre sight of the turret.

"Well, ya know…" the hollow still muttered. "There might've been somethin' there…"

Ichigo snapped around. "Are you saying this huge ass castle has always been in my mind and I _haven't noticed_?!"

"Che," the hollow clicked his tongue, looking away. "Ask the stupid old man."

Ichigo's face darkened with realization. "Where is he." It was not a question; it was a demand.

"Dealing with the _new addition_," the hollow grinned mockingly. "The castle was always there, but the tower's new, and so's it's _occupant_."

Ichigo shot a questioning glance at the hollow, but the hollow just continued to grin, gesturing at the turret. Taking the hint, Ichigo flashed over to the balcony, standing on the railing (since the tower was sideways and all) and took a step towards the entrance.

The old man appeared in front of Ichigo (he was still taller) and stopped him from moving forward with a pale hand. "Ichigo, you must not enter."

Ichigo glared at him and shook off the hand. "Why?!" he snarled. "So you can continue to hide things from me?"

The old man closed his shaded eyes, as if in great pain. "This abomination was never supposed to plague you. Do not make my efforts a waste."

"Why?" Ichigo asked, stricken. "If nothing else, at least tell me why you did this?"

"To protect you, Ichigo. Always, that has been my goal. Please, step away from this tower."

Ichigo looked at old man Zangetsu for a long time, when in reality it was barely a moment. Then he flashstepped back to the skyscraper he was on before. The old man took up guard barely a foot from the balcony, watching the entrance, waiting.

Ichigo glanced at the hollow zanpakuto only to find him looking at the entrance as well, an insane grin marring his face.

Then it happened, the pale curtains flickered in a way that wind could not produce, and a silver figure glided out the door. The figure was a woman made purely out of white light, transparent around the edges, long hair streaming behind in a barely seen swirl. Her legs did not contain feet, instead, her ankles turned transparent and faded out. She wore a light dress of the kind Rukia liked to wear, material drifting around her, the same color as the rest of the woman. She glided upright on the floor, so that, to Ichigo's eyes, it looked like she was the one defying gravity, and not him. Her features were bare impressions upon a face made of light, and if Ichigo looked really hard he thought he could see his mother, but it must've been a trick.

The woman walked as if she had feet, casually defying the gravity of Ichigo's mind, and rested a hand upon the balcony, as if this was a normal occurrence. She spoke in an airy tone that reminded Ichigo of that girl he had met, Luna Lovegood. "My, what's this?" She seemed genuine in her words, and, if Ichigo might add, a tad confused. The impression of her mouth moved as if she was really speaking, though her voice did not seem to come from that source.

The old man relaxed, as if he was expecting someone else. The hollow's expression did not change. The woman's gaze wandered, though Ichigo was unsure how he knew that since the woman did not have irises.

"Who're you?" Ichigo asked, tone not as harsh as he wanted it to be. The woman seemed honestly confused, so perhaps she was as new to this as Ichigo was.

"Hmm… who am I? I wonder who I am today…?"

Ichigo furrowed his brow. "Your identity changes?"

"Why would that be?" Her gaze settled on a point somewhere to the left of Ichigo.

Ichigo bit down a sharp retort. "Then who are you today?" he ground out.

"Today I think I shall be... taller." She straightened her light-weaved back, trying to make herself taller.

Ichigo facepalmed. He dared to peek out between his fingers, only to find the woman standing on her nonexistent feet, jumping up and down. Ichigo turned to the hollow. "Have you met her before?" he asked, completely exasperated.

The hollow cackled as a response.

Ichigo turned away from him, done with insane people inside his mind, messing it up. "Zangetsu?" he pleaded, eyeing the old man.

"She is the one who appears when the Prophet does not wish to," the old man answered, cryptic as usual.

Ichigo sighed, trying to keep up. "And the Prophet is…?"

The old man frowned and did not answer.

The woman had finally stopped jumping. "What's your name?" Ichigo asked, trying to be specific.

She stroked her chin with a look of intense concentration, bending down. "I know it, I know I do… Name…" She scrunched her eyes closed, then bopped up, pointer finger in the air, startling Ichigo. "Me!" she said, completely content.

"Nice to meet you… Me." Ichigo felt extraordinarily awkward, like he was talking to himself. In reality, that was exactly what he was doing, but it helped if he didn't think of it that way. "My name is Ichigo Kuro—"

"**We know who you are, The One Who Breaks."**

Ichigo jumped at the sudden change in voice. The old man flashed in front of Ichigo, sword drawn. The hollow remained in place, though he started to laugh quietly.

The woman had a complete change of attitude. She stood still and looked directly at Ichigo, her complete attention on him. She now had _three eyes,_ a third eye having opened up on her forehead. "I take it you're this Prophet?" Ichigo said wryly.

"**The One Who Breaks will fix his mistakes."** Her voice was booming, louder and deeper than the one of 'Me'.

"What mistakes?"

"**The One Who Breaks will fix his mistakes."**

"What's she talking about?" Ichigo asked old man Zangetsu.

The old man tightened his grip on the sword. "That is all she ever says. I do not understand the meaning behind it, but she is trouble, Ichigo. She contains much power, and, even at this moment, she works it on you."

Ichigo's eyes widened perceivably. "What do you want from me?!" Ichigo yelled, leaning forward.

The Prophet's voice was whispered in his ear, though the Prophet herself did not move from her turret. "**Fix your mistakes, stupid human."**

Ichigo felt himself wake from unconsciousness, like resurfacing from a pool. The cold silver light face of the Prophet stayed etched into his core, watching, waiting…

_Waiting for what_? Ichigo wondered. He didn't know.

* * *

**A/N: Whenever Ichigo gets a new power, he gets a new split personality!**

**So you finally know what the deal is with those broken prophecies! I mention this 'cause few people will realize the connection.**

* * *

**(o)(0)(o)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Now, let's hear from Harry down at Malfoy Manor. Harry? How're things? **

**Harry: "_Stupid-fry_!"**

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

"_Stupefy!_" Harry yelled, hitting Greyback point blank, freezing the man, but not releasing the teen from his grasp. Greyback toppled backwards, the teen coming as well, but falling forwards, the knife still sticking out of his back. Harry dove forward, thinking he had moments, _moments_ before Voldemort would show up, his scar splitting with the pain.

"Ron — grab Griphook and GO!" Harry yelled, throwing a wand to his best friend. With his other hand, he grabbed the wrist of the teen, _the knife in his back _—_so pale_—_the blood_, and sought out Hermione, who Harry knew was around here. She laid a few feet away, a fallen lump surrounded by the glass of the chandelier, and Harry hooked his other arm around hers. He spun on the spot to Disapparate, taking the two injured with him, hoping Dobby would follow along by his own power.

As the darkness started to surround him, Harry caught a last look at the drawing room. Draco and Narcissa, starkly pale. The flash of red, Ron, a small figure thrown over his back, Bellatrix's angry face, Dobby gone with a crack—

_Bill and Fleur's… Shell Cottage… Bill and Fleur's… _

The pain in Harry's scar grew to new heights, the two dead weights of the teen and Hermione threatening to be lost in the swirling black, but Harry held on, stronger than he had ever held before, repeating the destination over and over.

When they hit solid earth and smelled the salty sea air, Harry nearly collapsed in exhaustion, too weak to breathe. Harry's hand was slick with the blood of the teen, and Harry realized there was no time to breathe, so it didn't matter either way. Under the distant sheet of stars, there seemed to be a cottage a short distance away, a hint of movement.

"HELP!" he screamed, desperate for anyone, he didn't matter who. "HELP, PLEASE!" His breath had gone ragged, his chest heaving, dark spots dancing in his vision.

Five figures came running, one faster than the others. "HARRY!" he bellowed, and Harry knew it was Ron; instant relief spread through him. But not for long. Ron slid to halt next to Hermione, carefully cradling her in his arms, while the sea broke against rock, and the blood soaked the sand.

The other figures came into view: Luna, Dean, Bill and Fleur.

Luna gasped, "Oh no!" and her already pale face went to parchment, her hands over her mouth.

"We have to get him a healer!" Harry begged.

Bill came forward. "Hurry, let's move him inside. Don't take the knife out, it's stopping the bleeding." Harry staggered to his feet, finding much of his strength had returned.

Bill took the job of levitating the teen inside, though Harry had said he would do it himself. Bill had said Harry didn't know what wands he was using, so it was safer to let Bill do it. Harry knew that was an excuse so Harry could rest, but Harry wasn't tired. Hermione was also levitated inside, this time by Fleur, though it had taken a while for Ron to let her go.

Once inside, Harry felt the splitting pain of Voldemorts wrath.

"_... where did he go!" Voldemort hissed._

"_My lord, the God of Death_— AHHH!"

Harry tried to block it out, and the screams faded to a distant itch, still present. Fleur hurried past him in the corridor, Hermione floating limp in the air, and Harry followed her into what must have been the living room, only now it served as an infirmary.

Bill was already inside placing the teen on a newly transfigured cot. The teen laid on his stomach, blood sticking his shirt to his back. The bloody handle stood like a death flag.

Hermione was laid by his side in a second cot. Harry stopped in the doorway. "Where's Griphook?" Harry asked, confused.

"Guest room," Ron answered from behind him. Harry glanced back, seeing a haunted look in his best friend's eyes.

Harry unwillingly glanced at Hermione, but found she was looking much better, color had returned to her cheeks, though they were still pale.

In comparison to the teen, she looked perfectly fine.

"What are you doing— standing in zee doorway! Move!" Fleur sent them a shooing motion and Harry responded by entering the room, going to lean against the fireplace, Ron behind him. Fleur sniffed.

"I know a healing spell for deep gashes, but I don't know if it'll work on this scale," Bill muttered, hovering by the teen. "We'll have to try," he exclaimed. He looked up at everyone in the room, ending with a long look with Fleur. "Ron, there's a blood replenishing potion in the kitchen, third cabinet on the right, bottom shelf. Harry," Bill took a deep breath, "When Ron gets back, I need you to pull the knife out. Fleur and I will heal him, Ron'll give him the potion. Go!" Ron dashed out of the room. Bill went over to the teen and started to rip the teen's shirt off, exposing two knife wounds on his back and a huge shredded gash on his shoulder. Bill winced, his heavily scarred face twisting. Harry noticed strange black tribal tattoos winding down the teen's spine.

It felt like Ron was gone a lot longer than he actually was. Like a small lifetime. Harry felt every second like an anvil, beating at his heart. When Ron came back in, Harry knew his heart should've been beaten to a pulp.

Bill started immediately, "On the count of three! One!" Harry grasped the handle of Bellatrix's knife. "Two!" Ron uncapped the potion and then realized how very hard it's going to be to get someone to drink it when he's lying on his stomach, "Three!" Harry pulled out the knife, meeting unexpected resistance. The knife came free and blood gushed out, only to be stopped by the duel call of "_Vulnera Sanentur!_" by Bill and Fleur. The flesh started to knit itself together, new flesh covering the holes in his back. Ron spelled the potion to go down the teen's throat, and all was still.

Bill sank into a wooden chair with a sigh, hands on his knees. Fleur finished up with two spells in quick succession. "_Tergeo!_" The blood vanished from the teen's back, revealing clean skin marred by angry red welts, the shoulder wound already forming scar tissue. The black tattoos were stark against pale skin. "_Fasceis!" _Clean white bandages sprouted out of the tip of her wand, winding themselves around the teen's torso and looping around his shoulder. Fleur sighed with a look at Bill, then left. Harry could distinctly hear the clomping of a person walking upstairs.

Harry looked at Ron, but Ron was still hovering by Hermione. He had taken one of her hands and he held it between two of his own.

"This wound," Bill pointed at the teen's shoulder, "was it done by Greyback?" His throat was raw.

Harry nodded, suddenly too tired to speak.

Bill nodded, looking down.

Harry looked back at the teen, knife still in his hand, and was struck by the extreme absurdity of this situation. This person nearly killed himself trying to save Hermione— _Hermione_, a person he had never met before— and Harry couldn't even remember his name. The teen should've ran the instant he escaped the cellar, but he didn't. He stayed. He fought a room full of highly skilled wizards with nothing but his hands, and he was never hit by a spell. Not once. Hell, he wielded the Sword of Gryffindor like he knew what he was doing!

How many people would have died if the teen hadn't been there?

Dobby wobbled into the room, a tray piled high with food stacked over his head, and Harry smiled.

"Harry Potter!" he squeaked.

"Dobby." The house elf settled the dish onto a table in-between the two injured, carefully balancing it. "What're you doing?"

"Dobby brings food for the death one!"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Dobby, he's not dead yet. He's just injured."

"Dobby knows the death one is not dead!"

"Why don't you call him Ichigo instead? That's his name," said Luna in the doorway, unwilling to enter the already crowded room.

Ichigo! _That_ was his name! _Where is he from? _Harry thought. He definitely looked Asian, but he spoke English with an American accent. Maybe he was from America? Lots of strange people lived there. "Luna, you were locked up with him, weren't you? Do you know anything about him?"

Luna shook her head. "All I remember is getting moved to a different place. We were there for a little while, blindfolded, and then they brought Mr. Ollivander and me back. Ichigo was already there, tied up. He didn't wake for a long time…" She trailed off.

"He had to have done something against You Know Who, right? Why else would he be locked up?" Ron supplied.

Harry felt a sudden pang for Hermione. These sorts of conversations didn't feel right without her. He came to a sudden conviction. "If he was You Know Who's enemy, then he's our friend. Doesn't matter where he came from."

A weak voice drew Harry's attention like a magnet. "... well, of course it still _matters_, Harry… it always _matters_…"

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron yelled at the same time, Harry rushing over to her bedside. She gave them a weak smile, a mere twitch of the lips.

"Who's this new friend of ours?" she asked, tone still quiet.

Ron scooted an inch to the left, not letting go of her hand, Harry twitching to the right, creating a big enough space for Hermione to see Ichigo. She turned her head, blinked once, and returned to her original position. "Okay. What'd I miss?"

Harry related the events of the breakout.

Hermione immediately began to process the new information. "And you know absolutely nothing about this person? Not even his last name?" She clarified.

"His name is Ichigo Kurosaki," said Luna.

"Probably Japanese, but raised in America, since you said he didn't have an accent. Though why is he in England…? There's nothing for it. We'll have to question him when he wakes up," Hermione concluded.

"And while you wait for that, I have some questions for _you_," Bill said. "You turn up here with a half-conscious goblin, a person with a knife in his back, a tortured Hermione, and none of you have told me _anything_! What were you doing in Malfoy Manor in the first place!?"

"Bill, I'm sorry, but we can't tell you what we're doing," Harry apologized. "You know Dumbledore has left us a mission. We're not supposed to tell anyone else about it."

Bill was quiet again. Harry looked back at Ron. He shrugged. Silence lapsed again. Harry was unwilling to discuss anything with Bill in the room, but what was there to discuss? Without any new leads for the Horcruxes or the Hallows, they were stuck in a standstill. Where would they go next? Would they continue to run, no purpose but to survive, to live another day? Was it even worth it? Those were dark times for Harry. He could think of nothing to do. The only solace was the fact that Dumbledore will never know how badly Harry failed.

"Ron, I'm moving the family out of the Burrow. Now that the Death Eaters know you're with Harry, the family will be targeted." Harry felt wretched, forcing his friend's family out of their home. Just another thing he failed at. "I'll move them to Muriel's. It's protected by the Fidelius Charm, they'll be safe. In fact, we'll take Ichigo, Griphook and Ollivander as well. As soon as Ichigo wakes up, we'll go."

There was really no debating it, Bill's decision was final. Except someone did.

"_No."_

Harry twisted around. The mysterious Ichigo was awake, and he levered himself up into a sitting position, bandaged chest.

His eyes stared directly into Harry's. They were strangely dull with a silvery sheen, and Harry couldn't help thinking something _more_ was speaking. "_No._ They come with us." His voice had gravity.

"Us?" Harry whispered. "Who are you talking about?"

"I am talking about you, Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger."

Harry flinched. Hermione's eyes were wide.

"The time is short. You will find what you search in the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. Heed it and go, humans." Ichigo closed his eyes and slumped.

When they opened they were burning with rage, his posture instantly ramrod straight. His previously emotionless face settled into a scowl like an old glove. He whipped his head around, glaring at everyone who was gaping at him, unaware of his missing shirt (or aware of it but not caring too much) and finally ended up looking at the plate of food Dobby had left. On it were those tiny finger sandwiches piled several tiers high. Ichigo pointed at it. "Can I eat this?"

No one answered him. They were too busy gaping.

* * *

**The importance of Dobby's death - basically, it was _only because Dobby died_ that Harry realizes Hufflepuff's cup is in Bellatrix's vault. While Harry was depressedly digging Dobby's grave he comes to this realization and stuff happens. Another thing Harry learns because of Dobby's death is Occlumency. Obviously, Rowling had a purpose for killing off a house elf and since I saved Dobby, NONE OF THESE THINGS HAPPEN! So it's up to Ichigo to progress the plot. ~****(Deathly Hallows chapter 24) **

****(o)(0)(o)****


	9. Chapter 9

**dtaeh hmislef**

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Chapter 9

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Ichigo was hungry. He was _so damn hungry_! If someone had dangled some food in front of Ichigo's face, he'd have ripped the guys arm off and eaten it. (Ichigo had no time to be disturbed by his own thoughts, which were probably heavily influenced by the damn hollow.) He practically shoved the entire tray down his throat, but remembered at the last second that metal trays weren't edible. Ichigo couldn't remember the last time he had eaten something. Actually, he could, and it was dinner the day he got kidnapped, Yuzu's cooking. Oh man, what he would give for some of Yuzu's cooking! Not to say that the sandwiches were bad— they might've been good. Ichigo was too hungry to tell the difference.

Carefully putting the tray back into place and somehow knocking it over onto the floor, Ichigo once again found himself waking up in an unknown place for no apparent reason. It was a homey western living room, with a fireplace and pictures on the wall. He was on a bed, the tortured girl was on another bed. Harry and Ron were staring at him. Harry's face no longer had that allergic reaction puffed-up quality (maybe he was allergic to prisons?) and Ron seemed far more subdued. A person with a heavily scarred face and red hair was sitting in a chair and he was also staring at Ichigo.

The tray clattered to the floor with a _clack_ and broke the silence that had settled over the group.

Harry yelled "_What?!"_ like Ichigo had said something insane and wanted him to repeat it or something. Ichigo had only just woken up, so Harry must've been talking to someone else. Ichigo blinked a few times in a blank manner, and then moved to pick the tray back up.

"Don't move," the scarred man commanded, "you're injured."

Ichigo felt perfectly fine. _Too_ fine, in fact. With the injuries he had sustained, Ichigo should've been out for a month. Instead, he felt like he'd been healed by Orihime. Orihime wasn't there, right? Why would she be? Actually, why was Ichigo there, nevermind Orihime? Nevertheless, Ichigo didn't move, because a small thing (a goblin? what the hell was it?) hurried over and fixed it. It had big pointed ears, huge round eyes, a thin long nose, and only came up to Ichigo's knee. It was swaddled in a green plaid jumper, pink striped shorts (boxers?) and about fifteen different socks, the outer one had some type of Christmas theme going on.

As soon as Ichigo's eyes landed on the thing, he felt a pressure in the back of his mind, _pushing_ at him. Blackness seeped through his peripheral vision and a headache beat at his senses. Almost unconsciously, Ichigo slapped both hands to his temples and bent over.

Distantly, he could hear a few people yell his name and various types of "What's wrong?!" but the Prophet's voice drowned it out.

**"KILL THE ELF."**

The noise was so loud it rang in Ichigo's ears and he shut his eyes.

**"SINCE THE END OF TIME THE ELF'S DEATH HAS BEEN FORETOLD."**

Ichigo pushed back, remembering a time when his hollow ran loose. _NO! I will not do your bidding!_

**"Do my bidding! Hah! Stupid human, you do not have choices! WHETHER YOU DEIGN IT TO BE OR NOT, IT SHALL BE SO!"**

Ichigo redoubled his efforts, completely unaffected by the Prophet's threats. _I will not kill anything, no matter what you tell me!_

**"And if I told you that the elf was already dead?"**

Ichigo registered the fact that the Prophet was purposely saying confusing things so she could take over Ichigo's body, but this part was disconnected from the part of his mind that thought, _Stop spouting nonsense and go away already!_

**"Kill the elf and the prophecy remains true. REFUSE MY ORDER AND YOU WILL TAKE HIS PLACE!"**

Ichigo had the time to think, _That sounded really ominous…,_ before he shoved the Prophet back in her tower.

Ichigo made sure his head was turned far away from 'the elf' before opening his eyes again. His breathing was heavy and he hadn't realized.

"ICHIGO!" Ichigo nearly flinched at the close-by noise. Harry and Ron were right next to his bed and the scarred man had stood up.

"I'm back. I'm fine," Ichigo quickly reassured, his head still turned away from the elf.

"What happened, mate?" Ron asked. "You suddenly bent over."

"Ah, nothing. Just a headache."

Ichigo stole a few looks at their faces and found Harry's especially skeptical. Ichigo cleared his throat. "So. Do you mind telling me where I am?" He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but Ichigo thought a little of the underlying desperation leaked through.

Ron answered, "After escaping the Death Eaters we came to my brothers place. We'll be safe here; the house is under the Fidelius Charm."

Ichigo nodded like he understood everything Ron said. "Right. Of course. Fai-del-us Charm. Duh."

"You didn't understand a single word he just said, did you?" said Hermione from behind Ron and Harry. Ron and Harry attempted to move out of the way and ended up crowding at the foot of Ichigo's bed. Hermione was sitting up like Ichigo was (though Hermione had a shirt) and was giving Ichigo a very calculated look.

Ichigo could do two things in this scenario. One: continue pretending he knew what they were talking about. If they found out he was ignorant, they might try to kill him. On the downside: If Ichigo had no clue what they were talking about, he would essentially be stuck in a situation he knew nothing about. That left option two: admit ignorance.

"Okay, what the fuck are Death Eaters?" To Ichigo it sounded like a group of people who dined on hollow meat seasoned with shredded shinigami. If that was the case, then Ichigo was _really happy_ that he had escaped before he was cooked. Ichigo was some type of super-rare delicacy to them. Hmmm, they kinda reminded Ichigo of Bounts, these Death Eaters.

As Ichigo expected, the people reacted badly to Ichigo's ignorance. Oh, they didn't jump up into the air and scream at him, but their eyes widened and they shared looks with each other. Ichigo swung his legs over the side of the bed so he could be sitting properly. This explanation was going to take a while.

"You don't know?" Hermione asked incredulously. It seemed like Hermione would be doing the talking from now on. "You were their prisoner and you didn't know who they were?"

That ticked Ichigo off. "I was kidnapped and woke up in a cellar and you're blaming _me_ for being ignorant of a bunch of whack-jobs?!"

Her lips pressed in a thin line. "I… suppose not. Death Eaters are the followers of an evil wizard. His name is cursed so we cannot say it."

Ichigo understood the part up until 'evil wizard.' Ichigo was trying to be patient— really, he was— but it wasn't working too well, and his voice came out hard. "What's an evil wizard?"

Again they shared those shocked looks.

"Ichigo…" Hermione spoke, "Do you know what magic is?"

It took every inch of Ichigo's willpower not to guffaw. He wrestled with this thought for about a whole minute, no one interrupted him. Finally, "Do I want to know what magic is?"

Hermione actually gave the question a lot of thought, and Ichigo appreciated it. "It's probably for the best."

Ichigo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It was way too long, but somehow he doubted he would be running to a barber any time soon. "Lay it on me."

"Magic is, well. It's hard to describe. It's the power to do impossible things. Bill, why don't you show him?"

'Bill' turned out to be the scarred man with red hair. He took out a stick-thing and waved it at the chair was sitting in. He said, "_Diminuendo!_" and the chair shrunk to half it's size, just like that. Ichigo knew that the stick-thing could do other things as well, like make people become unconscious.

Obviously, everyone was expecting Ichigo to freak out. But after all that Ichigo had seen, magic wasn't too special. Ichigo just blinked at the now-tiny chair and turned back to Hermione. "Okay, so that's what it does. But how does it work?"

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "You say the correct phrase, followed by wand movement, and the spell takes effect."

So it was like activating shikai and bankai. But her explanation was certainly lacking. "So anyone could do it? Just say the right words and you shrink a chair?"

Hermione broke eye contact and made an exasperated noise. "Listen, do you know why you were kidnapped? It just makes no sense why a muggle would be locked up in Malfoy's basement and still be… you know."

Ichigo didn't know. That was why he was asking. But it appeared like Hermione said something that was preying on everyone's minds. So he tried to reason it out. He woke up in the middle of the night. No, that wasn't it. He was _woken_ in the middle of the night, because of a note. That note—it was from his boss, wasn't it? Ikumi… she'd been acting weird lately. Trying to distance herself from him. Could that be connected? It had to be. Ichigo's instincts were never wrong. And then there were the police, and Aizen— murderous thoughts flashed through Ichigo's mind— and England. Magic.

"I _told you_," Ichigo spat out, "if I knew anything I wouldn't be fucking _asking_ for information!"

"Then _how the hell_ do you know what we're looking for!" Harry snarled, entering the conversation.

Ichigo turned so he'd be facing Harry head-on, "That's 'cause I _don't_ know what you're looking for, I just met you idiots today!"

Harry immediately backed down, which caught Ichigo off guard and he attempted to reign in his temper. "Before you said, 'You'll find what you're looking for in Bellatrix's vault.' A completely ignorant person doesn't go around saying things like that."

Ichigo came to a conclusion. "You think I'm lying."

Hermione butted in, "No— it's not that, Ichigo! It's just that we're shocked, is all." It sounded like a weak excuse.

"I'll tell you straight out I never said any of that crap. If you said you saw my body say those words, then we're fifty feet deep in shit," Ichigo continued to mumble, "and I'm probably already covered in it…"

"We definitely heard you say it," Hermione trailed off. "If you don't remember it, then I'd say that's very troubling."

Ron snorted and Hermione shot him a look that silenced him.

Ichigo eventually grumbled, "Well, if I said it, it must've meant something, I guess..." He continued reluctantly, "Do you guys know a Bellatrix?"

"Well, yeah, of course. She's that crazy bitch that fucking _tortured_ Hermione—"

"Oh, the woman in black!" Ichigo cut Ron off, slapping his fist into his palm. "She sounded pretty freaked out when you guys stole from her vault. She must really like her stuff!"

Everyone was gobsmacked; Ichigo looked on, confused. Did he say something weird…?

"Sure, if you can call someone who goes into a torturous rage at the mere thought of someone stealing her things '_a person who really likes her stuff!_'" Harry sneered.

"So I take it torturous rages are not normal…?" Ichigo was just playing with him now.

"Where do you think you are? In the middle of a fight ring?"

Hah, if only Harry knew! "I think I'm in England, but I was wrong before…"

"Ichigo," Hermione said, grabbing his attention away. "Did you say that _we stole_ the sword from Bellatrix's vault?"

"Ah, you didn't?" Ichigo said sheepishly. "I just assumed that was why you were locked up."

"No… but maybe you have a point…" Hermione's face was overcome with a deep concentration and Harry and Ron both leaned forward. "Bill," she addressed the redheaded man, "could you go?"

Bill sighed, "Yeah, I get it, none of my business, mission from Dumbledore, etc. I'll go see how Fleur's doing." The man tromped out the room, herding a silent Luna away, closing the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the man walk upstairs, Hermione continued, "It's very strange how Bellatrix reacted, isn't it? What if, and I'm not saying it's true, but what if, You-Know-Who had given something to Bellatrix, something he told her to take very good care of—"

Ron and Harry's eyes widened.

Ichigo really didn't care about their "mission" or this "I-Don't-Know-Who" character. He just wanted to go home.

Was it likely that would happen any time soon? No. Not at all.

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**(o)(0)(o)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Yo, peeps! Listen up, I got bored, so this is the end. I wrote this for fun and decided to share it with y'all, but now I've lost motivation. **

**(To tell you the truth, the scene that I really wanted to write was the one where Harry and Ron found Ichigo locked up in the cellar... don't kill me.)**

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Chapter 10

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"So you're going to break into an unbreakable bank for a cup?" Ichigo deadpanned.

Harry looked sheepish, "Ichigo, I'm sorry that I've gotten you involved, this really has nothing to do with—"

Ichigo waved his hand in dismissal, "Who gives a shit, I was involved the moment I ended up in that cellar. But you're telling me," he paused, "You're going to break into an unbreakable bank," he paused again, "for a stupid. _Cup_."

The cup was obviously a Very Important Cup, but the three friends had never explicitly mentioned _why. _After Hermione made an incredibly improbable leap of logic and determined that the Special Cup was in the vault of a woman named Bellatrix, and then further explained Gringotts for Ichigo's sake, Ichigo couldn't stay silent anymore. Not to mention the fact that Harry went on a guilt trip every five minutes and Ichigo was just sick of it. Nobody should worry for Ichigo. Ichigo did the worrying.

Harry's face looked so damn serious all of a sudden. "Ichigo, you're a muggle. You've got nothing to do with wizards and nothing to do with our wars. I already think you know too much."

"But Harry— you heard him too, didn't you?" Hermione replied. "He knew where the cup was before we did. Imagine what else he might know!"

An awkward silence pervaded over the group. Ichigo scratched the back of his head. Ron shuffled his feet. Hermione fiddled with a piece of hair. Harry adjusted his glasses.

"So… um… Ichigo…" Hermione mumbled. "What else… do you know?"

Ichigo was too tired to glare. "You guys are in a war?"

Hermione nodded like this answered her question.

"But I think," Ichigo continued, "I think I have to go with you. To this robbery."

"_What?!_" Ron bellowed.

"Ichigo, I don't think that's a good idea—"

"OI! I suggested this death-trip, didn't I? I'm coming whether you like it or not! Even if I am one of those stupid muggles! Now tell me the shit I gotta know and I'll try to keep you idiots alive!"

Hermione laughed, it was so short you almost missed it, but she did.

But Ichigo wasn't listening. He was tracking a different line of thought, mainly: _Aizen_. Whatever Ichigo may or may not know, he _did_ know one crucial thing: he was here because of Aizen. Ichigo had to somehow get in contact with these "Death Eaters" and somehow find out what they knew. Who dropped Ichigo off at Malfoy Manor? Who were those police officers? What was Aizen doing in the World of the Living? What was happening in Soul Society? What were wizards? The questions were never-ending. Staying with these wizards might not be the safest option, but Ichigo knew that these guys were the best key to finding out what he wanted.

Harry nodded and the tenseness in his shoulders dissipated, like he was secretly relieved. "If we're really going to do this, we're going to need the help of a goblin."

Ron smirked, "Good thing we've got a goblin living upstairs."

By some unheard signal that Ichigo completely missed, the trio all stood up, Ichigo a moment after. "You better grab the sword," Harry added over his shoulder, and Ichigo looked around for the sword he had stolen from the goblin and found it in his hand. He had apparently never let go of it.

Opening the door toppled the girl Luna over from where she was eavesdropping. She quickly gathered herself, moving in an almost whimsical manner. "Hi, Ichigo!"

"Luna," he acknowledged. Ichigo had only met her for a few hours, but he could say that about any of these wizards. Just because you didn't know them long didn't mean they were bad.

"We need to speak with Griphook immediately," Harry said. After a moment, he continued, "Actually, make that Ollivander too. Separately."

Luna tapped her chin. "Hmm, I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask, but c'mon."

She led them up a flight of stairs, Ichigo taking the rear. At a landing with three doors, Bill appeared, the red-headed scarred man from before. Harry explained the situation again, to which he led them into a bedroom, Ichigo wasn't sure whose it was. The light outside was pitch black and Ichigo realized how late it was. Maybe he was suffering from jet-lag. Now that he thought about it, it was strange that his regular time zone was completely synced with Soul Society. He never got jet-leg from moving between worlds.

Hermione sat down on the only chair, Ron sat on the arm. Ichigo awkwardly stood in the back, leaning against the wall. Bill carried the beat-up goblin in the room and put him on the bed.

Harry did all the speaking, "I'm sorry to take you out of bed. How are your legs?"

"Painful," the goblin sneered. Ichigo felt the his black eyes beating into him, and him alone, even though the goblin was speaking to Harry. "But mending."

"You probably don't remember—" Harry continued.

"— that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" Yeah, Ichigo was completely lost. "I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous."

"_What?!" _

Everyone turned to look at Ichigo. He blushed and muttered something about continuing. But the goblin didn't. "_You,_" the goblin spat, "You took the sword."

Ichigo looked up when he eventually realized he was being addressed. "Well, nobody was using it…" The sword felt heavier in his hand.

"You _took _the sword."

Ichigo had the sensation of constantly being off-balance in this wizarding world. He was always missing something important, and it pissed him off. "What about it?!"

The goblin sneered.

Harry butted in, "Griphook, I need your help."

"I will not help you, Harry Potter. Not for all the gold in the world."

Harry looked so damn heart-broken it was almost comical. He grimaced and tried again, "Please, Griphook. We saved you—"

"I am aware of the debt I owe you, but it cannot be paid this way. Not when you're working with that _thing."_

Ichigo strode forward and got into the goblins face, gripping the goblins shirt and pulling him up painfully. "I don't care if you hate me. Hell, I don't care if you try to murder me at night. But I _won't let_ your hate stop you from helping someone when they really need it. So stuff it, pipsqueak, get over yourself." Ichigo dropped the goblin on his broken legs and stalked back to his place on the wall.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. She slowly shook her head.

Griphook had grown a remarkable shade of red, his face twisted in anger.

"Just… think about it, please," Harry tried to placate, and they nearly ran out the door.

Once outside at the landing, the three friends rounded on Ichigo.

"_What were you thinking?_" Hermione exploded, managing to keep her voice to a civil level while also conveying her infuriation.

Ichigo jutted his chin out and looked to the side. "He obviously wasn't going to work with us."

"So you beat him up?!"

Ichigo said nothing.

"Well, Griphook _did _insult him," Ron said.

Hermione rounded on him, "Don't _you _start now!"

Harry sighed miserably. "Maybe he will change his mind…?"

Suddenly Ichigo felt a little bad about what he did. Harry clearly thought the goblin was the only chance he had to steal the Special Cup. He scratched the back of his head, and started to say, "I could go back and apologize if you guys want—"

"NO!" they all said at once.

Ichigo huffed.

"Okay, Ollivander now. And Ichigo, _please _stay back," Harry asked.

They walked around the landing to the door opposite and knocked. A weak "Come in!" answered them. They entered. The Ollivander guy was laying on twin bed farthest from the window, and he looked bad. Really bad. Ichigo was afraid of breathing too deeply for the fear that he'll crumble into tiny bits and dissipate. The three wizards sat down on the other empty bed, but Hermione shooed Ichigo away before he got too close. Trying to keep his temper in check, Ichigo, once again, took his place awkwardly leaning against the wall.

"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," Harry began.

"My dear boy," the old man croaked. "You rescued us. I thought we would die in that place. I can never thank you… _never _thank you… enough."

Ichigo felt a small glow in the middle of his stomach, and he regretted that he hadn't tried to help these people escape. Everything had moved so fast, one second he woke up, the next he's running for his life dodging strange streams of light. If only he'd stopped to _think…_

"We were glad to do it." Harry sounded sincere. A brief wince clouded Harry's face before it smoothed out again. _What was that about?_ Ichigo wondered. "Mr. Ollivander, I need some help."

Hermione shot Ichigo a look that said "Move or say anything that will ruin this and there'll be hell to pay!" Ichigo, contrary to belief, understood these looks a great deal more than most and wisely kept silent.

"Anything, anything," Ollivander reassured.

Harry reached up to a bag/necklace he carried around his neck that Ichigo never noticed before. He took out two sticks— probably two halves of one of those stick-things. "Can you mend this? Is it possible?" Ichigo scrunched his eyebrows together. Were wands unfixable after they're broken? Like Bankai?

Harry gave the stick-things to the old man, who proceeded to mumble something about phoenixes and trees. "Eleven inches. Nice and supple."

What a weird old man.

Ollivander said wands couldn't be fixed, just like Ichigo had guessed. Harry took it like a blow to the gut, but he soldiered on, asking Ollivander to identify the stick-things they had stolen from those other wizards.

"Walnut and dragon heartstring. Twelve-and-three-quarter inches. Unyielding." Ollivander shot Ichigo a small look with quick silver eyes. "This wand used to belong to Bellatrix Lestrange."

"And this one?"

"Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches precisely. Reasonably springy. This was the wand of Draco Malfoy."

"Was? Used to? Don't they still belong to them?"

"Perhaps not. If you took it—"

"—I did—"

The old man looked at Ichigo, waiting.

Ichigo blinked. "What? I didn't take one."

Now Harry blinked. "Mr. Ollivander, are you saying that if you take another's wand by force it becomes yours?"

"Not necessarily, my boy. It's heavily dependent on the manner it was taken, whose wand it was originally, and the character of the person who took it, but, in general, that is the rule, yes."

Ichigo was silently grateful that zanpakutos were different from wands. He had a horrible vision of Aizen stealing all the zanpakutos of all the shinigami and then using them against their original owners.

"You talk about wands like they've got feelings. Like they can think for themselves."

Ichigo's hopes were dashed in an instant. Wands had souls?! Wait, _what?_

"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander agreed, and Ichigo got a Bad Feeling.

"A person can still use a wand that hasn't chosen them, though?"

"Oh yes, if you are any wizard at all you will be able to channel your magic through almost any instrument." That wasn't what Hermione said! Hermione said they needed wands! "The best results, however, must always come where there is the strongest affinity between wizard and wand. These connections are complex. An initial attraction, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the wizard, the wizard from the wand." Sounded like a zanpakuto to Ichigo, not sure about anyone else.

"I took this wand from Draco Malfoy by force. Can I use it safely?" Ichigo entertained himself with the idea of stealing Senbonzakura and seeing if he could use it safely. Hah.

"I think so." Ichigo did a double-take at the old man's response.

"So I should use this one?" said Ron, showing off another stick-thing taken from that man Ichigo tackled. He couldn't remember his name.

"Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine-and-a-quarter inches. Brittle. I was forced to make this shortly after my kidnapping, for Peter Pettigrew. Yes, if you won it, it is more likely to do your bidding, and do it well, than another wand." So, nice-talk for: If you beat the guy to a pulp his wand will like you more and switch sides.

The old man was looking at Ichigo again. Ichigo gazed steadily back. Sighing, Ollivander picked up the walnut wand, "I sense an allegiance change. This wand will always seek the stronger, the one who won it must be strong indeed."

"I didn't take it," Ichigo snapped.

"Ichigo isn't a wizard," Harry said. "Even if he did take the wand, what's it matter if he can't use it?"

"But I didn't take it!" Ichigo repeated.

"You _did _take it! Back in Malfoy Manor, when he first charged the room to get Hermione, Bellatrix's wand flew right to your hand!" Harry argued.

Ichigo turned to face him with a venomous look and was interrupted by the old man. "...Ichigo, was it? Come, boy. Take the wand."

Ichigo stayed where he was and continued his death glare match with Harry. Narrowing his eyes to slits, Harry took the walnut wand from the old man and marched right up to Ichigo and practically shoved the wand into his face. Ichigo ripped the wand out of Harry's grip with vehemence.

That was when a red-black miasma issued from the tip. Startled, Ichigo almost dropped the damn stick. He was completely unaware of the suspicious looks shot around behind his back, because, once again, the world did a tiny flip-flop onto its side.

"What the hell, mate!?"

"What's going on?!"

"You can do magic, Ichigo?! _Ichigo?_"

The yells sort of brushed over him from another world. There was Ichigo, the shinigami. Ichigo, the hollow. Ichigo, the quincy. Ichigo, the Fullbringer. Ichigo, the human.

Not Ichigo, the wizard.

_Definitely not. _

Eventually, he realized that this probably wasn't a good time to space out. He looked up into outraged faces, confused faces, supportive faces. Faces he didn't know. He looked down at a stupid length of wood that seemed content in changing his way of life.

In the end, all he said was, with a certain sense of morbid humor, "So. Does this make me one-fifth human, or still one-fourth?"

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**A/N: I guess this is up for "adoption". If you're interested in finishing this up, PM me. Or review and I'll get back to you. Either or. **


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